


Age of Consent

by jinxauthor



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Fluffy stuff follows, M/M, Masturbation, My First Smut, Oblivious Otabek, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Some Plot, Teen Angst, Wet Dream, Yuri lusting after Otabek, blowjob, just read chapter nine if all you want is porn, starts with smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-09-14 09:17:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 19
Words: 50,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9173188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinxauthor/pseuds/jinxauthor
Summary: After the Grand Prix, the skaters gear up for the World Championship series. Yuri Plisetsky and Otabek Altin stay in touch, forming a strong friendship. Unfortunately for Yuri, puberty hits him like a truck hauling hormones. Instead of skating, all he can think about his how hot Otabek looks in spandex.Mostly fluff mixed with a zest of smut and just a dash of teenage angst here and there. A real "cumming" of age story. (Haha, I'll see myself out...)





	1. Sweet Dreams are Made of This

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing smut! *buries face in shame* Please don't judge me too harshly!  
> I've tentatively titled the piece "Age of Consent" because I discovered that the legal age of sexual consent in Russia is 16. The age of consent in Kazakhstan is also 16. (Imagine that!) So the story will continue through Yurio's 16th birthday. The story bears an "underage" warning due to some... ah... under-aged masturbation...  
> Please enjoy!

Their bodies moved against each other. Yuri moaned as they kissed, feeling Otabek's tongue invade his mouth, exploring the space before quickly withdrawing again. He pressed his lips against Yuri's throat, licking his soft skin, tasting him. Yuri was breathless. He panted with impatience as Otabek continued to trail kisses down his body. He paused briefly at Yuri's nipple, tugging on the small nub with his teeth until Yuri arched his back with a hiss and another loud moan. Then, with a satisfied smile on his face, he continued the path downward.

Yuri's heart raced as he tried to catch his breath for what was coming next. He clutched at the bedsheet, fingers and toes curling inward as he felt Otabek's warm breath stir the hair near the base of his erect cock. Another soft kiss fell against the side of his shaft, then he felt Otabek's mouth close around him. When he began to suck, Yuri cried out with pleasure, unable to hold his voice back. He had never felt anything as wonderful as this wet heat, and he wanted more of it. His hips moved against the Otabek's mouth as he begged to be allowed in deeper. Otabek obliged, patiently allowing Yuri to fuck his mouth with more urgent thrusts.

“O-Otabek!” Yuri screamed as he hit climax. He came in Otabek's mouth, but the older boy didn't complain. He smiled down at Yuri, wiping his mouth with one hand while caressing Yuri's face with the other.

“You're so beautiful, Yuri...” he said, His face was colored with lust as he reached down between Yuri's thighs...

Yuri Plisetsky awoke with a gasp. He was lying in his bed, his sheets in total disarray, but Otabek Altin was not there. Yuri was covered in sweat, his chest heaving from the effort it took to breathe. His face felt hot.

“What the hell...?” he asked himself in confusion. He shifted in place, about to pull himself up, when he felt an uncomfortable sticky sensation between his legs.

“Oh no...” he said aloud. He yanked the blanket and sheets aside, and jumped out of bed. His underwear felt wet and squishy.

“Gross...” he said with repugnance as he peeled off his pajama bottoms and underwear, surveying the damage that had been done. He used his pajama bottoms to wipe away the semen as best as he could, then he grabbed a dirty towel off the floor, wrapping it around his middle. He frowned at his underwear and the pajamas, wondering what he was going to do with them. He could cram them to the bottom of his laundry hamper, but what if Lilia found it while doing the laundry? Yuri would never survive the embarrassment. He quickly decided to toss both garments in the garbage, and bagged up the trash himself to take out later.

Sunlight was streaming around the edges of his curtains, so he knew that it was morning. He hoped that it was still too early for either Yakov or Lilia to be awake. He grabbed his cell phone to check the time and felt his heart skip a beat. He had a text from Otabek.

**Hey.**

It was only one word, but Yuri stared at it for several long minutes. It looked as if Otabek had sent him the message the previous night, but Yuri hadn't seen it until just now. There were no other messages.

Yuri placed his phone deliberately face-down on his dresser. He couldn't face talking with Otabek now. Not after that incredibly awkward dream. Instead, he poked his head into the hallway, checking to see that the coast was clear, then he waddled uncomfortably down the hall as quickly and quietly as he could, and slipped into the bathroom.

After a very long, very cold shower, Yuri wandered back to his room. He could hear voices and movement downstairs, the sounds of Yakov and his ex-wife making breakfast for him. He smiled in spite of himself, then blushed when he thought of what Yakov would say if he knew Yuri was having wet dreams about his fellow competitors.

“You're going to end up just like Vitya!” he would say, or something to that effect.

Yuri scoffed at the thought. It was only one dream. He had probably just eaten something weird the night before, and it disagreed with him. Besides, Otabek was his friend...

Feeling conflicted, he walked into his room, closed the door, and allowed his towel to fall to the floor. As he dressed for practice, his eyes kept glancing toward the phone on his dresser.

Finally, after brushing his teeth, pulling his hair back, and retying his shoelaces three times, he decided it couldn't be put off any longer. He picked up his phone and texted Otabek.

**Hey.**

He tossed the phone back onto his bed and only then wondered if he should change his sheets. But there didn't seem to be any need. The mess seemed to have been confined to his underwear. Yuri stuck his tongue out in disgust at the memory. It wasn't the first sex dream he had ever had, but it had certainly been the most vivid. He didn't usually wake up with cum all over his legs.

His phone meowed. It was the alert he set for text messages. It was Otabek's response.

**I saw your performance at nationals.**

Yuri smiled. He was talking about the Russian Nationals for the European Championship. Yuri had come out on top, scoring even higher than Viktor Nikiforov. After winning gold at the Grand Prix, he was already the favorite for the World Championships. Otabek must have caught his performance online.

 **Yeah, and..?** he fired back, curious about what the other skater would say.

His answer set Yuri's heart pounding.

**You were beautiful.**

Otabek was nothing if not unfailingly direct, especially when it came to praise. At any other time, it might have made Yuri smile. But his text reminded Yuri of his wet dream. It wasn't fair.

His hands were shaking as he typed his retort.

**Don't call me beautiful! Say I was cool or awesome or amazing!**

Otabek wasted no time with his response.

**You were cool and awesome and amazing.**

Yuri smirked. Otabek could be a sarcastic ass sometimes. He sat on the edge of his bed, fidgeting with his phone and wondering what to say next. Before he could come to a decision, his phone buzzed in his hand with another incoming message.

**Don't let VN beat you at Euro Championship.**

Yuri scowled. Let Viktor beat him? Hadn't he just defeated him at the national level? Sure, it was a narrow victory, and Viktor's score still qualified him to compete at the European Championship, but that didn't mean anything to Yuri.

 **Don't worry about me,** he typed, **I'll make that old man regret coming out of retirement.**

 **Good,** came Otabek's response a moment later.

Yuri rolled his eyes at the short response, and quickly typed a question.

**Where are you?**

**Practice.**

**Already?** Yuri asked, realizing suddenly that he didn't know what time it was in Kazakhstan. He was busily searching world times from his phone when Otabek's answer came in.

**I need all the practice I can get if I'm going to win the next time I see you.**

This was too much. Yuri stared at the words _the next time I see you_ and could feel his face reddening with embarrassment. What was wrong with him?

He sent Otabek a message telling him he had to get to practice himself, then he tossed his phone into his gym bag to avoid temptation. But he didn't leave right away. He flopped back onto his bed and stared at the ceiling, knowing full well that he was going to be late for practice. He didn't care. He kept thinking about Otabek, and how he had called Yuri beautiful, and how they would be seeing each other again at competition. It was hard to believe he had seen Otabek only a few short weeks ago at the Grand Prix in Barcelona. And ever since returning to their home countries, they had stayed in touch, texting each other nearly every day, swapping photos on Instagram and Snap Chat. Otabek was quickly becoming Yuri's closest friend.

He felt his chest tighten at the thought of friendship with Otabek, and knew that something was very wrong with him. He rolled onto his side and curled his knees to his chest, as if he could curl around and suffocate this feeling that was starting to form within him. He buried his face in the mattress and gave an irritated groan.

“I'm in trouble, aren't I?”

 


	2. When I Think About You I Touch Myself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Everyone! Many thanks to those of you who have left kudos and comments so far. Some have been asking about the next update, and here it is! I plan to release the rest of the chapters during the actual competitions around which the story is based. That means you can expect another update before the end of this month! In the meantime, please enjoy Chapter 2!

Yuri had been masturbating a lot recently. It was the first thing he did waking up each morning and the last thing he did before going to bed. He would touch himself in the shower, after practice, and even during breaks if he got the chance. And always, _always_ to thoughts of Otabek.

It seemed excessive. He was beginning to think he had a problem.

He thought about calling his grandpa, but dismissed that idea almost as soon as it formed. What exactly was he supposed to say? _Hey gramps, can I get your advice? I've been pretty distracted recently... About what? Well, I've been thinking about fucking my 18 year-old figure skating friend. Also, I'm gay..._

Yeah, that was never going to happen.

Of course, he couldn't talk to Yakov or Lilia. The idea of either his coach or his choreographer finding out about his new favorite pastime sent him into a shame spiral. Perhaps the real problem was that he didn't have any friends who might be able to relate to what he was going through. The demands of his practice schedule and frequent international trips meant that he had been home-schooled for most of his life. The only person he knew close to his own age was Mila, and he didn't think he could share something like this with a girl.

If it had been any other problem, he would have gone to Otabek for advice. But this was the one thing he and Otabek could never talk about. Yuri could just imagine texting him: _So whenever I think of you I get this irresistible urge to masturbate. Thoughts?_

Yuri snorted with laughter. He was almost tempted to text Otabek after all, if only to see how he would respond. But knowing Otabek, his response would be something crushingly direct, like _please stop_ or _I don't want to be friends anymore._

If he said something like that, Yuri would die.

And so Yuri really had no choice but to keep at it, because without the regular release he got through masturbation, he just couldn't focus on his skating.

Today was no different. He had managed to slip out during the middle of practice while Yakov was distracted with the other skaters. He hid in a bathroom stall, and started thinking about Otabek's hands. Would they be smooth? Or rough and calloused from working on his bike? The second idea was more exciting somehow, and Yuri pictured Otabek's rough hands running over his skin as he gently pulled... no... _ripped_ Yuri's clothes from his body.

Yuri held the bottom of edge of his shirt between his teeth. It was partly to ensure he didn't get it dirty, but mostly a precaution against crying out in the public restroom. Doing this sort of thing in public had its charms, because the fear of being caught filled him with adrenaline and added to his excitement. His heart was pounding as he reached between his legs and gripped his own cock.

He was already hard. A few strokes was all it took for him to be fully erect. Even with his shirt clutched tightly between his teeth, he couldn't keep himself from panting with arousal as he continued to imagine Otabek's hands, picturing the look on his face as Yuri took his fingers into his mouth and sucked on them one by one...

The bathroom door slammed open, and Yuri heard voices. His shirt fell back over his stomach, partially concealing his member, while his free hand flew up to his mouth to stifle a gasp of surprise.

The voices continued in Japanese.

“W-Wait, Viktor! This is the bathroom!”

“This is fine, no one else is here...”

Yuri's boner went limp instantly. Those. Fucking. _Homos!_ Yuri wiped his hand off on some toilet paper and quickly stuffed his prick back in his pants. His shirt was a little damp with saliva, but the material was dark, so no one would notice. As he rearranged his appearance and pressed his hands to his face in an attempt to cool his flushed cheeks, Viktor and the Japanese Yuuri continued their conversation.

“Viktor! This isn't right! Someone might come...”

“ _Yuuri..._ I don't want to wait! The way you landed that quad was _perfect_... Don't you want your reward?”

“Well, yes... But can't it wait till – _mmff!_ ”

Yuri had heard enough. Kicking his stall door open with a loud bang, he stalked out and glared at the couple. Viktor and Yuuri Katsuki had jumped apart instantly, though only Yuuri had enough sense to look ashamed. Viktor merely smiled at Yuri and said “Oh! I didn't know you were in here, Yurio.”

Yuri scowled. “Idiots! You _live_ together! Can't you wait to do perverted stuff at home?”

He didn't bother to wait for a response. He just wanted to make a hasty retreat. Yuuri Katsuki seemed humiliated enough for his satisfaction, though he did hear Viktor exclaim, “How awful! Yurio didn't wash his hands!” as he made his way back to practice.

Yuri was now more frustrated than he had been before his break. It wasn't fun to be interrupted before his climax.

“This sucks!” Yuri said aloud, causing several nearby skaters to jump in surprise. Yuri ignored them, pulling on his skates and returning to the ice, hoping that the physical activity might help him calm down.

It was no good. He was still too distracted. He couldn't land any of his jumps and Yakov kept shouting at him. To make matters worse, Viktor had returned with the Pig. Apparently Yuri had killed the mood when he interrupted their little tryst. Yuri was glad he wasn't the only one disappointed in his sexual endeavors today, but now he had to watch Viktor, Yakov's prodigal son, take his place on the ice and deliver another flawless routine.

It was just practice, but when Viktor was skating, you couldn't take your eyes off him. Yuri had beaten him at Nationals, but Viktor had laughingly said that he was just a bit rusty from taking time off. While Yuri had given everything he had in his first match against Viktor, the older skater had treated Nationals as a warm-up. In the end, Yuri had beaten him by only a few points.

He should have been thinking about how he could improve his performance to ensure he stayed a step ahead of Viktor, but instead his mind drifted toward thoughts of the other Yuuri. Now that he thought about it, Viktor and the Pig were the only gay couple he knew. Yuuri Katsuki had moved into Viktor's apartment in St. Petersburg on the pretext of allowing Viktor to remain his coach while Viktor trained under Yakov. Of course, Viktor was such a useless instructor that the Pig received most of his tutelage from Yakov himself. It irritated Yuri to have to share his rink and his time with Viktor and his boyfriend. It irritated him even more to see them constantly flirting with each other.

They were at it again. Viktor, finished with his practice routine, ignored Yakov's instruction and glided across the ice toward the Pig, who was watching him from the side of the rink. They stood together, hands clasped and fingers laced, as Viktor shamelessly pleaded for praise. Yuri rolled his eyes and dove into his gym bag, searching for his phone, desperate for a distraction.

Naturally, he texted Otabek.

**Hey. What are you doing?**

He was worried Otabek would be in practice again, that maybe he wouldn't respond for hours, but to his relief, he got a text right away.

**Working on the bike.**

_Do not think about him covered in grease..._ Yuri silently chided himself, though it was hard to resist the thought of Otabek dressed in loose-fitting coveralls over a tight black t-shirt, hair tousled and face a little dirtied from where he had wiped the sweat from his brow...

“Are you texting that Kazakh skater?” asked a voice in Japanese.

Yuri's head snapped up in surprise. He hadn't even noticed Yuuri Katsuki approaching. When his initial shock had faded and he realized what Yuuri had asked, he could feel himself reddening with embarrassment.

“No,” he lied reflexively, hardly knowing why, “What makes you say that?”

“You were smiling,” said Yuuri with a gentle shrug of his shoulders, “Usually when you're on your phone you're just scrolling through Twitter so you can pretend to be busy and not talk to anyone. But this time you were smiling. I thought you might be talking with Altin. You're friends, right?”

“Since when did you become such an expert on me?” Yuri sneered, hiding his embarrassment under a thick layer of scorn.

“Sorry... I didn't mean to... I didn't mean anything by it...”

He was fumbling for something to say, but Yuri was already bored with him. His phone vibrated in his hand, alerting him to another message from Otabek, but he felt like he couldn't check it in front of the Pig.

“Did you want something?” he asked, not bothering to hide the impatience in his voice.

He expected Katsuki to be cowed by his obvious irritation. He wasn't prepared for the Pig to draw himself up, look him in the eye, and say, “I wanted to apologize for what happened earlier. When Viktor and I ran into you in the restroom. I know that the relationship he and I have makes you feel... uncomfortable. You're right, we shouldn't have been doing something like that in a public place.”

Oddly, it was Yuri who felt embarrassed. He couldn't help but feel that Katsuki was misunderstanding something about Yuri's dislike for him.

“It doesn't bother me that you're both guys,” he heard himself say. “You could be a girl and I still wouldn't think you're good enough for Viktor.”

“O-Oh... Really?”

“Tell me something, Piggy,” Yuri said, standing so that he could be closer to Katsuki's eye level, “How did a last-place loser like you manage to make a world champion like Viktor Nikiforov fall in love with you?”

Katsuki turned as pink as the pig for which Yuri had nicknamed him. “I... I don't know...”

“Well, then who made the first move?”

“Um... I don't really know that either...”

“Come on. _Something_ must have happened to make it official. Was it the rings?

“T-those were just a good luck charm!”

“Bullshit. Viktor hasn't taken his off since you gave it to him. So is that it? Or did you seduce him when you got naked at that gala party?”

“... I don't really remember anything from that night!”

“I mean that must have been it. Why else would he fly out to Japan to coach you? But how did things progress from there? What happened after our Hot Spring on Ice skate-off? What did you do to keep him interested?”

He hadn't meant to turn this into an interrogation. But as they were talking, he really started to get curious about how the relationship between the two skaters was formed. All that ground to a halt when the Pig said, “Are you sure this isn't about that Kazakh skater?”

The question was so sudden that Yuri was caught off guard.

“No!” he shouted, his response a little too loud and a little too hurried. Katsuki broke into a grin as he continued to stare at him.

“Yurio... Do you like him?”

“My name isn't Yurio!” he snarled, desperate to change the subject, but Katsuki continued to smile. Yuri wanted to sink into the floor and disappear. How had the Pig guessed what he was feeling?

“Your secret is safe with me, Yurio,” Katsuki said. To Yuri's horror, he reached out and gripped one of Yuri's hands in both of his own. “You know you can talk to me, if you want.”

Yuri ripped his hand away. He was so flustered he could have hit Katsuki, but he managed to restrain himself.

“Shut up. You're wrong. And if you tell anyone that I... If you say anything, I'll kill you.”

Far from looking intimidated, Katsuki couldn't seem to wipe the grin off his face. If Yuri looked at him any longer, he really would punch him, so instead he turned on his heel and stalked away, kicking a trashcan over for good measure as the left the skating rink.

He didn't bother to change out of his practice gear. He simply marched straight home, taking big gulps of the frigid winter air as he walked. He didn't know if he could trust the Pig to keep his mouth shut, but it wasn't like he had any proof, anyway. Yuri could always deny it if anyone else asked.

There was a part of him that realized Yuuri Katsuki might be the only person he could talk to now. Probably the only person who would understand him. But he would sooner die than ask that Pig for sex advice.

It wasn't until he got home that he finally checked the message Otabek had sent him. It was a selfie of himself next to his bike. He was wearing an oil-stained sweatshirt, not coveralls, but there was a slight smudge of grease along his hairline, just as Yuri had imagined.

“Damn.” Yuri groaned. Then he locked himself in the bathroom to finish what he had started at practice.

 


	3. Too Much of a Good Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The focus of this chapter is angst, which means there's no smut. Apologies! I promise I'll deliver in the next chapter. Expect the next update on or before February 6th! For now, please enjoy...

Viktor was being annoying. Granted, he was always annoying, but this time it was different. Since their arrival in the Czech Republic, he had been moping nonstop. Now he was lying on his bed, his back to the room, staring blankly at the wall and saying nothing. He hadn't moved all morning. Yuri never thought he would miss Viktor's mindless chatter or his endless, unwanted skating advice, but this sullen silence was so much worse.

The cause of Viktor's sudden change in attitude was very simple. The Pig had not traveled with them. Yuuri Katsuki had returned to Japan to continue training for the Four Continents in his hometown. It was the same competition in which Otabek would compete for a spot at Worlds. Meanwhile, Yuri was stuck sharing a room with Viktor in Ostrava for the European Championship, and Viktor's sulking was really starting to get on his nerves. It had only been two days.

“How long has he been like this?” Chris asked.

“Since we got off the plane,” Yuri replied.

He had enlisted Christophe Giacometti's help. Yakov would be livid if Viktor was late for their short programs that day, and as his roommate, Yuri would receive all of the blame. Luckily, Chris was staying in the same hotel. All Yuri had to do was jog down the hall and call on Viktor's long-time friend and fellow competitor for reinforcement.

Chris made a tut-tut sound and approached Viktor. Seating himself on the edge of the bed, he patted his friend's shoulder affectionately.

“Hello, Viktor! You seem depressed. I take it your _fiance_ isn't here to cheer you up?”

Viktor stirred for the first time in hours. “Chris...” he mumbled pathetically, “Is that you?”

“Who else would I be, Viktor? But let's talk about you. You look terrible. What would dear Yuuri say if he could see you like this?”

Viktor curled into ball, drawing his legs up to his chest. “It doesn't matter. He isn't here to see me...”

Chris exchanged a glance with Yuri and gave him a wink. Yuri rolled his eyes heavenward and prayed for the strength to overcome Viktor's childishness.

“And why did Yuuri not come with you?”

“He said he would only distract me...”

“And he was right! See, just look at how distracted you are, and he's not even here!”

Viktor wailed and turned his face into his pillow. Yuri was starting to think he'd made a mistake asking Chris for help, after all. His pep talks were awful.

Chris prodded Viktor's side and tried a more stern tone. “Viktor, I won't have this. You're going to get out of bed and compete. I refuse to be the oldest skater again!”

“I can't do the short program without him!” Viktor whimpered, his voice muffled by the pillow.

“Don't be ridiculous. You've won five consecutive World Championships without Yuuri's help. You skated just fine before him, and you'll do just fine now.”

Chris continued to cajole Viktor for several minutes while Yuri impatiently checked the time on his phone. Eventually, Chris was able to coax Viktor out of bed by reminding him that Yuuri Katsuki would surely be watching his performance online. “He'll be so disappointed if you don't do well. He'd probably blame himself.” Those words managed to get Viktor to the rink, but they did nothing to snap him out of his melancholy. He remained sullen and listless throughout warm-ups.

Without his “good luck charm” there to support him, Yuri expected Viktor to perform terribly. He'd never seen Viktor less excited about skating. But when Viktor finally took to the ice, Yuri realized that his expectations had been all wrong.

Viktor was flawless. His style had always possessed a smooth elegance, but now there was a certain sadness to his gestures that he had never believably pulled off in practice. The song was about loss. The concept should have been laughable for a man who was a five-time Grand Prix and World Champion. Yuri figured Viktor had probably never lost anything important in his entire life. And yet his longing was apparent in each breathtaking leap and spin. Clearly, his separation from the Pork Cutlet Bowl had heightened his performance rather than detract from it.

Yuri couldn't take his eyes off him, but unlike the rest of the crowd, who cheered and threw down flowers for their favorite, he felt devastated when the song was complete.

The feeling worsened when he witnessed what came next. Viktor skated mournfully off the ice and made his way to the Kiss and Cry, where to his surprise, Yuuri Katsuki was waiting for him.

The Russian Yuri was waiting to take his turn on the ice, and so he had front row seats to their reunion. He saw plainly Viktor's look of shock melt into teary-eyed joy as he leaped to embrace his lover. Yuuri Katsuki looked just as pleased to see him. Yuri could hear him admitting bashfully to Viktor that “he couldn't stay away.”

Yuri felt like throwing up, but the next moment someone was at his elbow, reminding him that it was time for his routine. Numb, he complied without thought, gliding out to center ice without so much as glancing at the crowd of screaming fans.

* * *

 

In the hotel that evening, Yuri was confronted with something far more inconvenient than Viktor's sulking. There was a sock on the doorknob.

Yuri stared at it in disbelief. He may be inexperienced when it came to these things, but he could take the hint. Viktor had claimed their hotel room for a rendezvous with his Katsudon.

Yuri kicked the door in frustration, hoping the noise would disturb the pair inside. He thought about pressing his ear to the door, just to see if they were actually in there, but then he thought better of it. After all, he didn't want to risk overhearing anything perverted.

He loitered in the hallway for a few moments, unsure of what to do next. Eventually, he decided that he couldn't wait in the hallway all night, so he gave the door a final kick before stomping angrily down to the hotel lobby. Throwing himself in one of the overstuffed couches, he dug around in his gym bag and pulled out his phone.

 **You'll never guess what that bastard has done this time,** he texted without preamble.

He worried that Otabek wouldn't respond right away. He was unsure of the time-zone difference between the Czech Republic in Kazakhstan. Otabek might already be asleep. But to his immense relief, Otabek texted him almost instantly.

**JJ?**

Yuri laughed loudly and drew a stern look from the hotel concierge. Yuri gave him a churlish grin and settled lower on the couch as he typed out his response.

**No. Not JJ. I mean VN. He kicked me out of our room.**

**Why?**

**So he can have sex with his Pork Cutlet Bowl.**

Otabek took so long to respond that Yuri found himself wondering if he'd ever told him the joke concerning the Pig and his Eros inspiration. He thought everyone in the skating circuit had heard of it by now, much like Yuuri Katsuki's strip tease at the Gala a year ago. However, if Otabek wasn't aware of the joke, then Yuri's text would be very confusing.

**I saw your performance online.**

Yuri smiled. So he had decided to change the subject? Cute.

 **And?** he prompted. **  
**

**You were good.**

**Thank you.**

**VN was better.**

Yuri's smile vanished. The truth was, he had been so lost in thought that he barely remembered skating his short program. And yes, he had come in second behind Viktor, but did Otabek have to rub it in?

 **Are you trying to pick a fight with me?** he asked, though he considered shutting his phone off to teach Otabek a lesson about insulting him.

There was another delay, but then Yuri's phone lit up with three consecutive messages.

**I don't want you to give up. You can do better than him. I want you to be on your best game when I destroy you at Worlds.**

This was unusual for him. Otabek typically summed up whatever he was thinking in a single, concise message. Yuri squirmed happily in his seat. He couldn't help but feel that in his own way, Otabek was trying to cheer him on. He quickly typed another question.

**Have you noticed that all we ever talk about is skating?**

It was impulsive, but he was curious about what Otabek would say. Sometimes it was frustrating that the only thing they had in common was figure skating. Yuri wanted to know more about him.

 **How's your grandpa?** Otabek asked.

Yuri grinned. How very like him. Yuri snuggled deeper into the cushions of his sofa and prepared himself for a long night of texting, his anger at Viktor and Yuuri Katsuki long forgotten.

* * *

 

He was still on the couch when he awoke the following morning. He and Otabek had texted throughout the night, and his phone was still clutched in one hand. He glanced though his messages, reminding himself of what was said during their long conversation. He'd been in the middle of relaying a story about his cat to Otabek when he must have finally drifted off to sleep. Otabek's last message to him simply read **Goodnight Yura.**

A warm feeling spread through Yuri's chest. He wasn't sure if it was a typo or if Otabek had given him a nickname. He hoped it was the latter. Nicknames were not something they'd used with each other before, but it made him happy. It felt like a sign that they'd grown closer. He began brainstorming a name for Otabek while he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. After some thought, he figured it out.

 **Morning Beka** he said, adding that he hoped he hadn't kept him awake all night. This time Otabek didn't respond, but Yuri didn't mind. They didn't always get back to each other right away, and Otabek was probably still sleeping.

In spite of all his happiness, the couch had not been a comfortable place to sleep. He felt sore all over, and he'd probably only slept for a couple hours, after all.

By contrast, Viktor looked amazingly refreshed. Yuri wanted to slap him.

“Morning, Yurio!” he said cheerfully as Yuri arrived in their shared room to use the shower. He was already dressed in his warm-up gear and ready to head to the championship venue. The Japanese Yuuri was still sleeping soundly in Viktor's bed underneath suspiciously rumpled sheets.

“Go fuck yourself, Viktor,” he replied without emotion. He flipped the bird for good measure and slammed the bathroom door behind him, hoping that the sound would wake the Pig.

Yuri found himself thinking that with Yuuri Katsuki's return, Viktor might be more easily distracted. He had delivered an amazing performance without his partner yesterday. Perhaps having the Katsudon closer to him would actually make him worse.

The loving couple embraced just before Viktor's free skate. They even kissed one another's gold rings for good luck. Yuri desperately asked Yakov for a bag to throw up in, but his complaints went unheard.

For the short program Viktor had skated to a song about loss. Today's number would tell a tale of new beginnings. In a way, it was a story about Viktor. His skating spoke of his career before meeting Yuuri Katsuki, how he struggled to remain motivated, and how he learned to love the sport again through his lover. With Yuuri, he was stronger than before.

The audience adored him. Yakov was bursting with pride to see one of his charges excel, and even Lilia was impressed by Viktor's choreography. The only one not enjoying the program was Yuri. As he watched Viktor, he was revisiting all the same crippling emotions that he had the previous day. Watching Viktor made him nervous. Hearing the Pig's shouts of encouragement made him angry. Seeing them reunite at the Kiss and Cry made him unbearably sad.

The emotions all rolled into one confusing mess when he took to the ice. His thoughts, like his feelings, were in a jumble. It wasn't fair that he had to follow Viktor. No one should have to follow a performance like that. Viktor was supposed to have one foot in retirement. He was supposed to be weak from missing the first half of the season. He wasn't supposed to be able to keep up with the stamina of the younger skaters, who could take on more daring programs. And yet he had just delivered the best performance of his life. He didn't need to see the scores to know that Viktor broke the record Yuri had just set at the Grand Prix only a month ago. How did he get to be so good when he did nothing but mess around with the Pork Cutlet Bowl during practice? It wasn't fair.

Too late, he realized the music had started, and he was already a beat behind before he'd even began. Flustered, Yuri skipped the opening choreography, hoping to catch up to the flow of the music and time his jumps as needed. He had to focus. Only a perfect performance would have a chance of competing with Viktor's. He couldn't afford any little mistakes.

But images of Viktor and the other Yuuri kept flashing through his mind. It wasn't fair. _It wasn't fair._ Viktor had everything. He had the gold medals, the international fame, years of skating experience and apparently enough talent to carry him through the sport when most other competitors would retire. And he loved someone who loved him in return.

He fell. He hadn't even been thinking about the jump, and before he knew what had happened he was sliding across the ice. He heard the audience gasp, then the polite applause as he unsteadily pushed himself to his feet.

He knew his face was bright red. He'd never fallen in competition before, and now he fell at the European Championship after Viktor's stunning performance. He tried to regain his focus and put the mistake behind him, but the first fall made him timid. He over-rotated on his second jump and nearly lost his balance. He had to put his hands down to keep himself from falling flat a second time.

This was embarrassing. He was angry with himself for becoming distracted. He felt like crying, but he knew it was neither professional nor manly to burst into tears in the middle of a routine, so he kept going.

Somehow, he landed his third jump, but he had no idea how he'd managed with his eyes burning and blurry from his held-back tears. There was no way his score would beat Viktor's now. At this point, all he could do was pray that combining today's score with that of his Short Program would be enough for him to place in the competition. If not, he could say goodbye to Worlds.

He manged to complete the routine without anymore glaring mistakes, but he only successfully landed 3 of 5 quads he had planned. Admittedly, it was an ambitious routine for even the most experienced skater, but Yuri had proven he was capable of much more at the Grand Prix. He was disappointed in himself, and the halfhearted response he was getting from the audience told him they were disappointed as well. It seemed his Angels were throwing down fewer stuffed cats than usual.

He expected Yakov to lecture him at the Kiss and Cry as always, but when he sat himself down between his coach and Lilia, Yakov had nothing to say to him. This made him feel worse. He wished Yakov would tear into him just a little. Saying nothing was like confirming that Yuri had utterly failed.

When the score came, it was a disappointment, but not a surprise. Yuri had never scored this low before. He was in last place for the free skate. Even with the combined score from his short program, he would only come in fourth. It was a complete defeat.

He wanted to leave. He wanted to run all the way back to Moscow and cry in his grandfather's arms. He wanted to disappear, if only for a moment. But Yakov wouldn't let him. He had to congratulate the other skaters and show his support for the Russian team, which meant staying to watch Viktor climb the podium and claim another gold medal.

It was torture, but it was soon done. He stayed just long enough to satisfy his coach that he wasn't being a sore loser, then he ran. He just wanted to be back in his grandfather's home, there to spend the rest of the skating season in painful obscurity. For now his hotel room would have to do.

Of course, he forgot that he had to share a room with Viktor, and it wasn't long before the champion, Yakov's golden goose, caught up with him. He stood in the doorway, his hands on his hips, staring at Yuri as if he didn't know him.

“Yurio, what was that about? It wasn't like you.”

The gold medal hanging around Viktor's neck was glaring him in the face. Yuri could have punched Viktor for his insensitivity.

“Just go ahead and say it,” Yuri hissed through clenched teeth, “I was awful.”

Viktor stared at him in surprise, then said without a hint of malice, “Well, yes you were.”

Deeply wounded tried to push past him into the hall. He'd sleep in the lobby again tonight if he had to. But Viktor wasn't going to budge easily. He placed his hands on Yuri's shoulders and tried to calm him.

“Yuri...” he said, his voice taking on a softer, more parental air that Yuri resented, “You can tell me what's bothering you. I know something has been on your mind. You've been distracted, even at practice. My Yuuri always misses his jumps when he's thinking about something.”

“I'm not like that Pig,” Yurio spat angrily. He shoved Viktor out of the way and ran down the hall without giving him a chance to say more. He didn't want Viktor trying to baby him. Viktor was the last person who could understand what he was going through.

Unsurprisingly, he thought of Otabek. Otabek was the only person who could understand him. He knew what it was like to feel this frustrated, to not be able to achieve his goals. He would know exactly what to say. He pulled out his phone and saw to his surprise that Otabek had already sent him a message.

**Saw your FS. What happened?**

Yuri stared at the message, his fingers moving automatically to type a response. But he froze. He read the words over and over again, and thought about how often he had done this same thing, staring at messages from Otabek like they were gospel and he needed to memorize every phrase. His thumb moved to hit **delete.** Then he shut the phone off, and placed it back in his bag.

 


	4. Faith and Desire and the Swing of Your Hips

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe someone can tell me if I need to increase the rating of this story to "explicit." I'm gonna be honest, I'm not sure where the line between "mature" and "explicit" is drawn, but I'm sure that line is covered in semen.

Yuri didn't blame Otabek. He hadn't done anything wrong. And yet Otabek was the reason he had failed at the European Championship. Yuri had missed practice, taken too many breaks, spent almost every night up late having text conversations... He just couldn't focus on skating when he dedicated so much of his time to Otabek. So he decided to stop communicating with him.

It wouldn't be forever, he reasoned, just until after Worlds. When Yakov told him there was still a chance he'd be selected to represent Russia, he knew he couldn't let everyone down a second time. He needed to devote all of his energy to skating.

It wasn't fair to Otabek. He knew that, yet he couldn't think of a suitable explanation. The truth was out of the question, and every other excuse he could think of for putting their friendship on hold sounded lame, even to him. So in the end, he said nothing.

That didn't stop Otabek from messaging him. The first few days were the hardest, with Otabek texting him at regular intervals throughout each day. First, they were the usual messages.

**Hey.**

**How are you?**

**What's up?**

Yuri would read them, but he wouldn't respond. Then they became more direct.

**Are you upset?**

**Did I do something wrong?**

**Talk to me.**

He couldn't. He was having a hard enough time focusing with Otabek's messages coming in every hour. Responding now would only lead to a conversation he didn't want to have. Pretending he'd lost his phone or a similar excuse might only put them back the way they were before, and Yuri couldn't cope with that. Otabek finally resorted to sending Yuri various cat videos in an obvious attempt to entice a response from him, but Yuri would not be swayed.

Eventually, the texts stopped coming.

He was lonely, but his skating had improved. Even Viktor was taking notice of his progress, though Yuri wished he would stop comparing him to the Japanese Yuuri. As for the Katsudon, he kept trying to start conversations about Otabek, or slip in an insinuation about Kazakhstan. He seemed fond of reminding Yuri that he would be competing against Otabek in the Four Continents Championship. But before then, Kazakhstan would host the Winter Universiade in Almaty – Otabek's home rink. Yuri figured that just because he couldn't talk to him, didn't mean he couldn't watch him skate. He'd think of it as his reward for putting so much effort into his practices.

He hadn't been able to watch it live, so he already knew the results before seeing the performance itself. Naturally Otabek, the hero of Kazakhstan, had brought the house down with his powerful routine. Yuri couldn't wait to see what everyone on the circuit was talking about. Some people were already saying that Otabek would be the one to beat at Worlds.

He found a video of Otabek's performance after practice ended that day. Safe in the quiet security of his own room, he opened his laptop. He wanted to watch Otabek on a larger screen than his phone provided, and he was glad that he did. Otabek was glorious on the ice.

He was dressed in all black, creating a striking silhouette against the backdrop of the white ice. Yuri didn't recognize the instrumental music which began to play, but as Otabek began his routine, the audience immediately began clapping along with the steady rhythm. The opening choreography was reminiscent of traditional dance. It reminded Yuri of Russian dances he'd seen performed by his grandfather when he was younger.

From there Otabek began to move around the rink, performing a few turns as he built up speed for his first jump. The execution was perfectly timed to the music. He landed a quadruple salchow right off the bat, immediately followed by a triple toe loop. The audience went wild.

The rest of the routine continued with the same flawless execution. His performance was masculine, powerful, but also very elegant, and played to his strengths. He also didn't look bad in his tight-fitting costume...

Shit. Yuri was getting aroused. Why was it that whenever he saw Otabek, he ended up thinking about sex? He tried not to give in to his lust and focus on the routine, but it was difficult to focus on anything other than Otabek's muscular body...

“Damn...” Yuri muttered as Otabek performed a spread eagle that seemed designed to show off his ass. He was too horny to concentrate. After all, he had stopped masturbating since he'd stopped speaking to Otabek. True, it was part of what distracted him from practice, but he also missed the feeling of release.

The video had ended, but his erection wasn't going away. _Maybe it won't hurt if it's just this once,_ Yuri thought. Restarting the video, he reached for himself with a trembling hand.

He dragged his fingertips along the underside of his cock. By now, he had become well practiced at knowing what felt good. He began to stroke, enjoying the spine-tingling sensation. Precum started to ooze from his tip, and he rubbed his glans with the flat of his palm, touching his shaft with his moist hand and using the slickness to stroke himself harder.

“Fuck,” he gasped as Otabek landed another jump in the video. It wasn't so much his skating or even his body that was turning Yuri on. He was starting to remember his fantasies... The things he imagined Otabek doing to him...

Feeling aroused, he craved more. He imagined Otabek kissing him, the feel of his mouth, their tongues twirling around one another...

The video played on as his breathing became labored. He knew he shouldn't be doing this, but he couldn't stop himself now. The skating routine had now completely taken a backseat to Yuri's fantasies. He was picturing Otabek's face, the selfies he had sent, the things he shared with Yuri...

He stroked himself faster and began rubbing the tip of his cock. A jolt ran through him and his hips bucked, lifting a little off the bed. He was going to cum. He imagined Otabek whispering the word “beautiful” in his ear. His breath was coming in short gasps. Using his memories of Otabek in this way made him feel guilty, but the pleasure he felt was greater.

His dick was soaked with precum and the moist sound of his rhythmic strokes was driving him crazy, but he still hadn't reached his limit. He should have cum by now. Yuri paused, panting slightly and wondering what was missing. Almost unconsciously, he brought his free hand closer to his backside, but he immediately pulled away. He felt a little ashamed by what he was thinking, but curiosity got the better of him. He'd never tried playing with his ass before, and he wanted to know how it would feel. Heart pounding wildly, he slipped a single finger inside and he felt his insides ignite. The feeling was intense, but not unpleasant. He hesitated a moment, one hand on his cock and one finger inside him, slightly appalled by how he must look. But any discomfort quickly melted away as he began to stroke himself while gently pushing his finger in from behind.

He was panting again, and the moist sounds coming from below intensified. He imagined it was Otabek doing this to him. It was his fingers slowly exploring his insides, his hand running along the length of Yuri's hard cock. It felt so good. But still he wasn't satisfied.

Masturbation wasn't enough. He wanted to kiss him, to feel his weight on his body, the pressure of his dick sliding inside... He wanted more. He wanted to have sex with Otabek.

“B-Beka!” he cried aloud. Calling his name made it easier to cum. Semen spurted from him and he could feel his own ass squeezing around his fingers. Chills and pleasure hit him in waves, but it still wasn't enough. He knew what he wanted now, and that knowledge left him sad and lonely.

He cleaned himself with the tissues he kept near his bed. He regretted what he had done, but it wasn't because of shame. He realized that he'd never be satisfied with just being friends. Now that he knew his own feelings, how the hell was he supposed to face Otabek in person?

* * *

"You want to go to South Korea?" Yakov asked. Yuri nodded.

Yakov narrowed his eyes in suspicion, "Why?"

"Viktor's going."

"Viktor is going because Yuuri Katsuki will be there and no force on Earth is going to keep Viktor away," Yakov said grumpily. "I don't need two skaters skipping out on practice before Worlds."

Yuri was prepared for this, and his argument was ready on his lips, "But he'll have an unfair advantage! I can watch the other skaters online, but that's nothing to what Viktor will gain from seeing the competition in person."

Lilia looked swayed, but Yakov didn't appear convinced. Yuri decided it was time for the final blow.

Giving Yakov a look of wide-eyed innocence he usually reserved from convincing his grandpa to let him stay out late, he said, "Please... I think it would help me to see the other skaters before the match... I... I don't want to repeat what happened in Ostrava."

He thought it was a good act, but Yakov was a tough nut to crack. Luckily, Lilia spoke up for him. "For goodness sake, Yakov. Let the boy go if he wants to! He's been in top form this past week, and observing the other skaters can only benefit him."

Yuri smiled at her gratefully and turned anxiously to Yakov. His coach didn't look happy, but to Yuri's delight, he nodded his head.

"Thank you!" Yuri said, jumping up from his chair, "I promise I won't lose focus! I'll keep practicing while I'm there!"

"Viktor will chaperone."

Yuri's joy deflated instantly. "I don't need a chaperone! I'm fifteen!"

"Exactly. You're a minor and I won't have you traveling alone! If you want to go, you'll go with Viktor and Katsuki. I'll speak with Viktor myself."

"I refuse to share a room with them!"

Yakov rolled his eyes, "Then get adjoining rooms, for all I care! The point is, you won't travel alone!"

Yuri felt like reminding him that he'd gone to Japan by himself with no issue, but since he had left without Yakov's permission, it didn't seem like a good idea. He had to accept Yakov's conditions. He loathed the idea of spending extra time with Viktor and his boy toy, but it didn't really matter. He was going to Four Continents.

 


	5. Don't Stand So Close To Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Single's Awareness Day! I had hoped to get the full chapter posed on Valentines Day (which also happens to kick off the start of the Four Continents Championships) but this next section has proven to be quite a bit longer than I anticipated. So for now, I'll upload the first part, and post the rest tomorrow when I have more time for editing. I hope you enjoy this brief update. Expect more very soon!

“Looking for someone?”

Yuri was startled by the sudden question, though he recovered quickly with a sharp glare. Yuuri Katsuki returned his animosity with a smile.

“NO,” he replied forcefully.

In truth, he had already spotted Otabek among the crowd of coaches and skaters gathered before the start of the Four Continents Championship. He had spent hours rehearsing what he was going to say on the plane, planning the perfect strategy to restore their friendship while cleverly disguising his true feelings. But his first glimpse of Otabek put all his designs on hold.

Otabek leaned against the wall several meters from where Yuri loitered with Viktor and the Pig. His face could have been chiseled from stone, his expression so serious. To make matters worse, he appeared to be in deep conversation with Jean-Jacques Leroy, though it was JJ doing all the talking. In short, he looked completely unapproachable. Yuri didn't want to disturb him. It would be better to try talking to him after his performance.

Still, he couldn't help but feel a little stung seeing Otabek with JJ. Yuri couldn't stand the Canadian skater, and he thought Otabek felt the same. Since when did they become so chummy? He felt a stab of regret, wondering if Otabek had formed a friendship with JJ out of spite after Yuri stopped talking to him.

His paranoid thoughts were becoming less and less likely, spiraling to the point where he almost convinced himself that JJ had left his fiance and was prepared to elope with Otabek following the competition.

“Oh look! It's Otabek Altin!” Viktor said excitedly, intruding upon Yuri's thoughts, “Yurio, isn't he a friend of yours?”

Unlike the troublesome Yuuri Katsuki, who apparently read minds, Viktor remained completely oblivious. His comment was completely innocent of any underlying meaning. But the Pig's knowing smirk added to Yuri's bad mood.

“Not really,” he lied in response to Viktor's question, shooting Katsuki another surly glare.

“Really?” Viktor said with interest, “Because he's looking right this way.”

Yuri gave another start, then peered tentatively back in Otabek's direction. It was true, Otabek was staring directly at him. No, not staring. He _glowered._

 _Shit..._ thought Yuri. _He's pissed..._

He quickly looked away, hoping that the brief moment of eye contact had been short enough to pretend that he simply hadn't noticed Otabek.

“Yurio...” Viktor asked quizzically, “Are you sure you're not friends with him?”

“Why do you ask?” replied Yuri, certain that his heart was beating loud enough for Viktor and everyone else to hear.

“Because now he's headed this way.”

Yuri risked another glance over his shoulder and saw that it was true. Otabek had lifted one hand and placed it over JJ's face, pushing him out of the way to create a clear line of sight between himself and Yuri. JJ was left staring at Otabek's back in shock as he continued to part the crowd, moving purposefully toward Yuri with his intimidating scowl.

_He's going to kill me!_

Yuri's fight or flight response kicked into overdrive. Without thinking, he turned on the spot and fled. He didn't know if Viktor called after him, or if Yuuri Katsuki tried to intervene. He didn't even know where he was running to, or why he did it. Something inside him just knew that it would be dangerous to face Otabek right now.

He hazarded a glance behind him only once, and realized with a thrill of terror bordering on excitement that Otabek was chasing after him. He increased his speed to a full sprint, ducking around random corners and dodging passerby. He started passing fewer and fewer people, eventually slipping into a stairwell where he hoped to lose Otabek entirely. He hadn't realized how close Otabek had already come to catching up with him. Before he knew it, he was standing on a landing of the deserted staircase, and Otabek had pinned him against the wall. His fingers dug into Yuri's shoulders painfully.

“Why are you avoiding me?” Otabek asked, his tone low and menacing.

Yuri's carefully planned explanation was obliterated in an instant. It had been replaced with a single thought...

_Scary.... He's really scary!_

And so Yuri did what he always did whenever he was scared or angry or sad... He kicked him.

Yuri's foot connected with Otabek's shin, causing Otabek to double over as he drew his leg to his chest, wrapping his hands over the source of the pain.

“Ow.”

“I'm sorry!” Yuri said, horrified by his own action. He hadn't consciously decided to kick him, and was just as surprised it had happened as Otabek appeared to be.

“ _Ow._ ” Otabek repeated as the initial shock wore off and a throbbing pain had time to settle in. He was now rubbing the wounded portion of his leg as if the friction could somehow fix the damage.

“I'm so, so sorry!” Yuri wailed. The fear he felt a moment ago was replaced by worry and guilt. “I'm sorry, Beka! I didn't mean to hurt you! But you freaked me out! I actually came all this way to see you. I really, really wanted to talk to you, but I ran away and now I've kicked you and you're about to compete and I've probably broken your leg and now you'll never go to Worlds and you'll probably never be able to skate again and it's all my fault!”

He was babbling. He knew it, but he couldn't stop. Otabek dropped his leg back to the ground and placed his hands on Yuri's shoulders to calm him. His expression was soft, all sign of hostility vanished.

“No, Yuri. It's my fault. I shouldn't have scared you. My leg is fine. Please don't cry.”

“I'm not crying,” Yuri said automatically. His eyes stung with tears which he manfully kept from falling, but he was betrayed by the thick, congested sound of his voice.

Otabek smiled at his stubbornness. “Did you really come to Korea just to see me?”

“Yes,” Yuri said, thinking it was safe to admit that much.

“Then why did you run from me?”

“Because you were chasing me.”

Otabek seemed to find this very funny, because his slight smile broadened into a grin. It was a rare expression for him to make, and Yuri felt privileged to be the only one there to see it. Then Otabek gave his shoulders a gentle squeeze, and Yuri was reminded of why he'd been so nervous to see Otabek in the first place. He was standing a little too close, and Yuri was a little too aware of his body.

“You've gotten taller,” Otabek said offhand, “And look, your hair's gotten longer, too.”

He brushed away the hair that fell over Yuri's eye, tucking it behind his ear. Pleasant shivers ran down Yuri's spine. Yuri might have grown taller, but Otabek had definitely become sexier than Yuri remembered.

Suddenly, a voice came over the PA system, announcing in several languages that the first group of male skaters would need to prepare for warmups.

“That's me,” Otabek said, turning away from Yuri and heading toward the stairwell door. Yuri was grateful for the distraction. He had been certain that his bright red face would give him away. Otabek turned back just as he was about to let the door close behind him.

“We'll continue this conversation after,” he warned. His expression was light, but his tone was very serious. Yuri could only nod in response, knowing that he'd need to think of a better explanation for his ridiculous behavior before he spoke to Otabek again.

 


	6. Shut Up and Dance With Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter was short, and this chapter is long-ish. I reached a point where I simply couldn't revise it anymore, so I apologize for any glaring typos. It's very likely I'll return to this chapter at another time for further corrections, but for now, this is as good as it's gonna get. Next update March 1!

After completing the first day of competition, many of the skaters decided to dine out in celebration. Yuri and Otabek joined the largest party, taking up three tables in a small family restaurant. Yuri didn't typically socialize with skaters outside his Russian circle, Otabek being the one exception, so he was skeptical when he heard the plan.

He might have enjoyed himself more if Viktor and the Pig hadn't been a part of the group. The Japanese Yuuri was in first place following the short programs. As a result, Viktor was completely insufferable. He wouldn't stop showering his lover with praise, ignoring the presence of the rivals seated at their own table.

Yuri rolled his eyes as Viktor lifted Katsuki's hand to his lips, kissing the gold ring he wore for “luck.” The performance had ended hours ago. He didn't think the Pig needed any more encouragement.

“Oi, Viktor,” Yuri sneered, delivering swift kick to Viktor's leg under the table. “Would you shut up already? I mean, it's not like the Piggy broke any records. Otabek is only a few points behind.”

Otabek, seated by Yuri's side, raised his eyebrows. “I would have done better if _someone_ hadn't kicked me in the shin right before my performance.”

“I _said_ I was _sorry_!”

Yuuri Katsuki looked scandalized, “You kicked him?!”

Yuri could tell by the expression on his face that he was thinking something along the lines of “that's no way to make him your boyfriend.” He used his glare as a warning for the Pig to keep his silence.

Otabek chuckled, “I'm not really mad. And I think you deserved first place for that performance, Katsuki. You did really well.”

In spite of his resentment toward the Japanese skater, Yuri had to agree with Otabek. The Katsudon had skill. A year ago, he completely choked during nationals. Now he was competing at the Four Continents, having just earned a silver medal at the Grand Prix. True, much of his improvement could be attributed to Viktor's choreography and Yakov's training. But Katsuki had a way of making the routine his own, and that took talent that even Yuri had to recognize.

Was he jealous? Absolutely. Yuuri Katsuki not only had the skill and stamina to be a serious competitor, he had Viktor as well. He wondered, not for the first time, how Yuuri managed to attract the attention of the infamously flaky Viktor Nikiforov.

Yuri wasn't allowed to dwell on this thoughts for long. Viktor and Yuuri kept dragging him into their conversation, and he had to focus on acting natural while deflecting Katsuki's knowing smirks from across the table.

But the real challenge began after their bill was paid, when Viktor suddenly announced that they were all going to the home of Seung-gil Lee for a booze-filled after-party.

“What?!” shouted Seung-gil, who had not been consulted when this plan was formed.

Yuuri Katsuki pleaded to be excused. He couldn't possibly drink before the free skate slated for the next day. But his protests went as ignored as Seung-gil's, and they were both swept out in the tide of revelers to the street.

Yuri was about to follow them when he felt something tug the hem of his jacket. He turned, and saw that Otabek had grabbed hold of him.

“Let's sneak away,” said Otabek.

How could Yuri refuse?

He glanced once more in the direction of the retreating party, checking to make sure Viktor, his supposed chaperone, wasn't paying attention. When he was certain they wouldn't be noticed, he gave Otabek a nod, and the two of them dashed quickly down a side street.

“Where are we going?” Yuri asked after they had randomly strolled a few blocks down the unfamiliar streets of Gangneung. 

“Ice cream?” Otabek suggested.

“... It's February.”

“Too cold?” he asked, only to answer his own question in an undertone, “It's too cold... Then how about coffee?”

“Isn't it kind of late for coffee? You have to compete tomorrow.”

“Right... Then how about a drink?”

“... I'm fifteen...”

“Oh... I forgot...”

Yuri almost mentioned that he'd be sixteen in less than a month, but that would make him sound even more childish, so he kept his mouth shut. Things had started to feel awkward between them, and Yuri felt like it was his fault. He had to remind himself that this was only the second time they'd been together in person. Of course it would feel different than talking over text or chatting among a group of other skaters.

Otabek made one more attempt at a plausible activity. “How about we just explore the area?”

Yuri agreed to his proposal, and they continued their tour of the city, directing their steps toward the coast. Desperate to break the mounting tension, Yuri introduced their usual topic of discussion – figure skating. The strategy proved successful, and they quickly fell into conversation, discussing the various skaters Otabek had competed against and how he thought the performances would go the next day. Eventually, the exhausted the familiar topic, but the silence that followed was comfortable.

They followed the boardwalk until eventually turning onto a pier. They stared back at the lights of the city as the night sky darkened, listening to the sounds of the waves lapping against the support beams below them. Yuri was just starting to think that he could do this. He could have a normal conversation with Otabek that wouldn't risk exposing his feelings and destroying their friendship. Then Otabek asked the question Yuri had been dreading all night.

“So... Are you going to tell me why you've been ignoring me?”

 _Damn... I thought he forgot..._ thought Yuri. Luckily, he had his excuse prepared.

“I was humiliated,” he stated, relieved to hear that his voice was steady, “After the European Championship... it was embarrassing. I couldn't bring myself to talk about it with anyone. I know that sounds stupid, and I'm sorry. But that's how it was.”

Yuri delivered his speech while staring out over the dark water of the harbor. When he finished, Otabek didn't speak right away. Seconds of silence ticked by uninterrupted, until Yuri finally chanced a peek at Otabek, wondering what sort of face he was making and if he believed Yuri's story.

Otabek was watching him carefully. For a moment, Yuri was worried that he'd see right though him, but Otabek merely nodded, saying, “I understand.”

Yuri let go of the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, then Otabek added, “But if there's a next time, please just talk to me. I know what it's like to fail at something, remember?”

“You mean ballet?” Yuri asked, remembering how Otabek told him of his summer in Yakov's training camp. It was the first time he'd seen Yuri, though Yuri didn't remember meeting him at that time. “I wanted to ask... Is it true that you stopped studying ballet?”

“Yes. I gave it up when I saw how good you were. It made me realize that I sucked.”

Yuri didn't understand. He thought all the professional skaters studied ballet. Every other skater he knew did. Yuri Katsuki and even Viktor studied ballet for their choreography. He told as much to Otabek, who offered him one of his rare smiles.

“There are other forms of dance you can use in figure skating, Yura.”

“Like what you did today?” Yuri asked. Otabek's short program had been the very same routine Yuri had watched online. He'd been proud of himself for managing to restrain his lust while watching it live.

“Sure. But there's other things too.”

“Example?”

Otabek seemed to be considering his answer, then he suddenly stepped closer to Yuri. He grasped Yuri's hand in one of his own, while the other slipped around Yuri's back, where he placed it just above his waist.

“W-What are you doing?” Yuri asked, hoping that Otabek would attribute his stammer to the chill night air and not the sudden panic that threatened to engulf him.

“Waltz position,” Otabek said simply, “It's a style of dance a lot of pairs skaters use. I've learned it too, but it's hard to demonstrate by myself.”

He took a step forward, and nearly trod on Yuri's toes. Yuri inhaled sharply at Otabek's sudden closeness. He hoped the dark would conceal his blush.

“Yura... You have to let me lead.”

“Fuck that, I'm not a girl,” Yuri said, his nerves making him irritable.

“I can see that. But I'm the one who actually knows how to waltz.”

“Fine... But there's no music.”

To his surprise, Otabek began to hum. It was quiet at first, then the soft notes swelled in volume, turning into a wordless song that carried across the water into the night. Yuri found himself caught up in the rhythm, and gave no further resistance as Otabek gently led him in a waltz. Yuri even forgot to be embarrassed.

“What is that?” Yuri asked after they'd danced for a few minutes. He didn't really want to interrupt, but he was starting to really enjoy the song Otabek was humming.

Otabek seemed thoughtful for a moment, then he replied, “I don't know. I just made it up.”

“You just made it up?” Yuri repeated, unsure of whether to be impressed or to tease him.

To his disappointment, Otabek brought their dance to a stop, releasing Yuri's hand and waist. He stuffed his hands into the pocket of his coat and Yuri copied him, not wanting to appear sad that they were no longer holding hands.

“I like to write songs...” Otabek said vaguely as he began to walk back toward the shore. He seemed completely natural, as if he hadn't just spent the last few minutes slow-dancing at night with Yuri on a pier in South Korea. Yuri tried to put the thought from his mind, and asked Otabek about his song writing instead.

“Well, it's not really writing...” Otabek admitted, “There's no words or anything. It's more like composing.”

“I didn't know that,” Yuri said, excited to have learned something new about his crush. “That's so cool!”

Was it his imagination, or was Otabek looking a little shy?

“It's a hobby,” he said, “But someday...”

“What?” Yuri prompted, eager to know more.

“Someday I'd like to mix an original song and skate to it. Like what Yuri Katsuki did at the Grand Prix.”

“He didn't write that,” Yuri argued, “Some friend of his from school did.”

“But they wrote it _for him_ ,” Otabek persisted, “And that's why his performance was so good. The routine and the song were perfectly matched for him.”

“Not good enough to beat me,” Yuri said sullenly. It might be selfish, but he didn't like hearing Otabek praise the Pig so much.

Otabek smiled, “No... Not good enough to beat you.”

They were staying in the same hotel, so they walked back together. It was already well past midnight, and Yuri felt a little guilty about keeping Otabek out so long right before the second day of competition. Otabek didn't complain. He only wondered offhand whether the other skaters had really ended up crashing Seung-gil's place after all.

They parted ways in the elevator. Otabek was staying in a room on a higher floor. Yuri waited until the doors had closed over Otabek's still smiling face before turning and walking down the hall to his room. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this happy. He was really, incredibly glad that he'd come to Korea.

Yuri stopped just inside the door of his room. He thought he had heard someone call his name. He poked his head into the hall, thinking Otabek might have forgotten something and came back to tell Yuri. But the hall was empty.

He thought he must have been mistaken, but after shutting the door of his room, he heard it again. His room was empty, but he was sure he'd heard his name. He then realized the sound was probably coming from the door linking his room with Viktor's. Wondering if Viktor was going to lecture him for sneaking out, he edged reluctantly toward the door. His hand was on the knob when he heard Viktor's voice distinctly, though strangely muffled.

“Yuuri... Does it feel good?”

“ _Ahn..._! _Viktor..._!”

Yuri stumbled back from the door and clamped his hands over his virgin ears, cursing his bad luck for sharing a name with the Pork Cutlet Bowl. He stamped his feet in a small dance of discomfort and denial that this was happening again. Were Viktor and Katsuki incapable of spending a night together without bumping uglies???

Yuri knew he couldn't spend another moment in his room with that going on next door. Grabbing nothing but his phone and room key, he ran back into the hall and made for the elevator. He didn't bother texting this time. He called Otabek.

He answered on the second ring. From the sound of his voice, he was pleased and confused to be hearing from Yuri so soon after parting for the night.

“Can I come over?” Yuri said, not bothering to hide the note of pleading in his voice.

“Of course,” said Otabek with his usual promptness. “But why now?”

“Viktor's eating Katsudon.”

“... And that's bad?” Otabek asked, clearly not picking up on Yuri's meaning.

“It's very noisy,” Yuri said by way of explanation.

It didn't take him long to make his way to Otabek's room. He had already changed into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

“I was just getting ready for bed when you called,” he said “I hope that's OK?”

“It's fine. I'm sorry to bother you like this.”

Yuri hadn't thought this through. He'd been so distracted with his need to escape from the sounds of Viktor and Katsuki's lovemaking that he hadn't considered the implications of sharing a room with Otabek. He'd been able to manage a normal conversation with him earlier, and he'd even kept his cool during the waltz. But standing alone with him in a darkened hotel room was slightly more intimate than Yuri was prepared for.

“Um... I forgot to bring my pajamas...” Yuri muttered lamely, unsure of what to say.

Otabek glanced around his room. “I have another t-shirt and some gym shorts you can wear.”

“That's fine.”

He couldn't bring himself to strip in front of Otabek, so he lied and said he needed to use the bathroom, taking the opportunity to change in privacy. He paused after getting dressed and stared at himself in the mirror. Otabek's shirt was a little big on him, and the shorts were baggy, but Otabek was right. He had grown a little, and his shoulders filled out the shirt more than he would have expected. He should have been pleased by the growth spurt, but instead he felt incredibly self-conscious. He was too distracted by the thought of wearing Otabek's clothes. They smelled a little like him...

 _Don't think about the way he smells..._ Yuri commanded himself... _Even if it is delicious._

He practically bounded out of the bathroom, afraid to spend any more time alone with his own perverted thoughts. He instantly wished he could go back again, as Otabek was busy pulling down the covers of his bed and turned to him with an apologetic smile.

“My room's a single, so there's only one bed. I hope that's OK?”

 _Risky... too risky..._ Yuri thought, so he said, “I can sleep on the chair.”

“Don't be stubborn. You'll get a stiff neck sleeping in that chair, and the bed's big enough for two.”

Yuri didn't trust himself to say anything above a squeak, and he knew it would be pointless to argue. Any more protests and Otabek might guess that something was wrong with him. So without another word, he walked to the opposite side of the bed, pulled back the blankets, and slipped onto the mattress next to Otabek.

He was frightfully aware of the other boy's body only a few inches from him. Their combined heat quickly warmed the space under their shared blanket. Yuri did his best to lay still and not squirm in agitation. Otabek seemed to have dropped asleep instantly. Yuri envied him. He was certain he wouldn't be able to sleep all night...

* * *

He was wrong, of course. He did manage to fall asleep. And when he awoke the next morning, he found himself in a very compromising situation.

Otabek's arms were wrapped tightly around him. Yuri could feel his firm chest pressed snugly against his back. His warm breath disturbed the hair against Yuri's neck. Yuri was drowsy at first, unsure of where he was, but feeling comfortable in this snug warmth. When he realized that he was in fact being spooned by Otabek, he suddenly found himself wide awake.

To make matters worse, he was hard.

What the hell had he done to deserve this torment?

He knew it was only morning wood. It happens to everyone. But he was worried of giving Otabek the wrong impression.

He decided to try slipping out of bed. If he could manage it without waking Otabek, then he could sneak into the bathroom and take care of his problem without Otabek being any wiser. But when he tried to wriggle himself free, Otabek stirred in his sleep, pulling Yuri closer with a soft grumble.

Yuri froze. Something firm was pressed against his backside. Otabek was hard, too.

 _It's just a natural physical response!_ He reminded himself. _It's nothing to get excited about!_

But logic was no match for lust. Yuri was aroused. He could feel his morning wood harden into an honest-to-goodness erection, and he inhaled sharply. The temptation was too much.

He started making small movements with his hips, rubbing his ass against Otabek's crotch. He tried to stifle the sound of his own breath, worried he might wake Otabek. His movements were small, focusing mostly on applying more pressure to Otabek's stiff member.

Otabek shifted against him, a light moan escaping his lips. Yuri stopped instantly. For one agonizing moment, he thought Otabek had woken up. He would realize what Yuri was doing, and be appalled by the violation. He would throw Yuri out of his room, and never speak to him again.

But Otabek didn't wake. He merely shifted in his sleep, releasing Yuri and rolling onto his other side with a soft grunt.

The feeling of shame didn't leave as easily. Yuri slipped out of bed, feeling angry at himself for his momentary lapse in judgment. He didn't want to take advantage of Otabek in that way. If anything, he secretly hoped that Otabek would take advantage of him.

He banished the thoughts with a cold shower.

* * *

 

“You're leaving?”

Yuri had finished his shower and changed back into his own clothes long before Otabek awoke. Now Otabek sat on the edge of his bed, looking up at Yuri. He wasn't able to meet Otabek's eye, so he stared at his hairline instead. He hadn't styled his hair yet that morning, and it was mussed. It was frustrating how desirable he looked with bedhead.

“Yeah,” Yuri said shortly, not trusting himself to say much more.

“So soon?”

Yuri heard his tone of disappointment, and knew what Otabek must be thinking. It wasn't fair for Yuri to leave before the Four Continents ended. And yet after the experience he had that morning, Yuri knew it wasn't a good idea for him to stay longer.

“My coach said I've been selected to compete at Worlds,” Yuri said. It was true. He'd heard the news from Yakov before he left for Korea. He just hadn't told Otabek yet. “It's not good for me to miss so much practice.”

“I understand,” Otabek replied. “I'll miss you.”

Yuri held his breath. Otabek was unfailingly honest about his feelings, but his straightforward delivery could be overwhelming at times.

“I'll miss you, too,” Yuri said when he was certain he could speak without his voice quavering.

Otabek stood up and pulled Yuri into a hug. Yuri hadn't been prepared, and his body stiffened at the sudden contact.

“You're gonna kick ass at Worlds,” Otabek murmured near Yuri's ear. “I'll have to step up my game.”

Yuri finally gave in, leaning into Otabek and returning the hug. He knew Otabek couldn't see his face, so he closed his eyes and allowed himself to enjoy this moment.

He was the first to pull away, finally looking Otabek in the eye. “You just focus on beating the other Yuuri today. If he gets a gold medal here, Viktor will be completely intolerable.”

Their parting was quick. Otabek had to prepare for the free skate and Yuri had a flight to catch.

Yuri told himself that he would be fine. He would see Otabek again for the World Championship in just a few weeks. The trip had been successful. He had saved their friendship while hiding his feelings. He told himself that was what he wanted. He would be fine with remaining Otabek's friend.

But of course, he wasn't fine at all.

 


	7. It's My Party, I'll Cry If I Want To

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday, Yuri Plisetsky!

He left early that morning. Yakov and Lilia were still asleep, but he left them his usual note and headed straight for the ballet studio.

These private practices had become a part of his regular routine. He might call them practices, but in reality, they did little more than provide some much-needed distraction. Ever since his return from the Four Continents Championship, he brought himself to the studio whenever his thoughts strayed toward Otabek. And since daily communication with his Kazakh friend had resumed as if it had never suffered an interruption, he found himself thinking about Otabek a lot.

Oddly, his skating _had_ improved. Yakov was pleased, and even told Yuri that he thought the trip to Korea had been a good idea, after all. He teasingly hinted that Yuri had regained his confidence by seeing the other skater's inferior performances. Yuri had to restrain himself from loudly proclaiming Otabek's superiority.

He focused on clearing his thoughts as he did a few warm-up stretches. He had the studio to himself. Plugging his phone into the sound system, he quickly pulled up one of the tracks he'd be skating to at Worlds. It was a ballet number, especially selected by Lilia. He might not be able to glide across the floor the way he could on the ice, but Lilia was a ballerina before she was a figure-skating choreographer, and her routine was just as beautiful on hardwood as on skates.

He remained still during the first few bars of music, allowing himself to enjoy the swell of the strings and the gentle murmur of the drums. He was waiting for inspiration to strike, to feel the music pull him into the routine. It was difficult at first. He wasn't in the right head space for ballet.

His head was still full of Otabek. His thoughts strayed to the waltz they'd shared in Gangneung. He began to dance, moving in time to the music and trying to remember the steps Otabek had taught him. It was enough to get him going, and he fell into the familiar pattern of Lilia's choreography.

He should have been pleased with the height he was getting on his jumps, how lightly he could land on his feet, how gracefully he performed the pirouettes... Instead, he was bored. He'd done these exact moves a hundred times. He didn't know what he was supposed to feel anymore when he heard this music.

Frustrated, Yuri allowed himself to deviate from the routine. He started to form his own dance, making his movements less precise, more sloppy. He leaped into the air with aggression, enjoying the heavy thud his feet made against the hardwood floors. Lilia would condemn his dance as something ugly. The thought made him smile.

The music was drawing to a close. As the rose in a final crescendo, Yuri made his gestures even more wild, finally whipping into a frenzied series of pirouettes before ending the song with a sudden flourish. He'd put more energy into this made-up routine than he'd put in his real performance in weeks, and he was panting from the effort.

The sound of applause broke into his private moment. Yuri flinched in surprise and turned toward the door of the studio. Yuuri Katsuki stood in the doorway, clapping his hands and grinning widely.

Yuri frowned. He'd made a point of avoiding Yuuri Katsuki. Any conversation with the Japanese skater would inevitably involve Otabek, and Yuri had no interest in discussing his feelings with Viktor's butt buddy.

“What do you want?” Yuri demanded, hoping the Pig would hear the implied _fuck off_ in his tone.

“That was fantastic, Yuri!” Katsuki said with enthusiasm that completely ignored Yuri's obvious resentment. “That was the music from your free skate, wasn't it? But I've never seen you move like that before... Did you decide to change the routine?”

“Wouldn't you like to know?” Yuri said scornfully. “Do you really think I'd tell my competition what I had planned for Worlds? I haven't even talked about my routine with Otabek...”

Katsuki's eyes lit up, and Yuri immediately regretted his words. He'd stumbled right into the topic he most hoped to avoid.

“Were you thinking about him just now?” Katsuki asked gleefully, “That makes sense. I usually think about Viktor when I'm skating, too. You should think about using your feelings in your routine if you haven't already...”

“Stop,” Yuri said, throwing up his hands as if to shield himself from the onslaught of Katsuki's words. “Just stop it!”

Katsuki's eyes widened. “Stop what?”

“Stop comparing me to you! What I have with Otabek isn't like what you have with Viktor, OK? So just stop...”

He'd started off feeling angry, but as he spoke, the feeling faded into a lonliness that was becoming depressingly familiar. He'd never spoken aloud his fears concerning the frailty of his relationship with Otabek until now.

Katsuki chose his next words carefully. “Yuri... Can I ask...? Have you told Altin-kun how you feel about him?”

It wasn't worth the effort trying to deny his feelings to Katsuki anymore. He hid his embarrassment with a glare and replied, “Didn't you hear what I just said? It's not like that between us. If I said anything to Otabek... He'd probably hate me. It would all be over.”

“You're wrong,” said Katsuki with conviction. “He's your friend, isn't he?”

“My best friend,” Yuri said aloud. _My only friend,_ he added silently to himself.

“Then if he's really your friend, he won't hate you, no matter what you tell him. It's possible he won't be able to return your feelings, but if he truly cares for you, he'll understand.”

Yuri wasn't sure what to say. Perhaps Katsuki was right. And besides, he didn't know if he could keep his feelings a secret forever.

He was staring at his feet. He couldn't see the smile on Katsuki's face, but he could hear it in his voice as the Japanese man continued, “And anyway, I don't think you'll have to worry about that.”

Yuri glanced up at Katsuki and saw his suspicion confirmed. Katsuki was offering him a gentle, knowing smile.

“What do you mean?”

“I was at Four Continents, remember? I've seen the way Altin-kun looks at you.”

Yuri's curiosity was peaked. “And how does he look at me?”

“The same way you look at him. When you two are together, it's like you're the only two people in the world. The rest of us are just background noise.”

Yuri was speechless. What Katsuki just described was exactly the way Yuri felt whenever he saw Viktor and Katsuki together.

“Oh!” Katsuki exclaimed suddenly, “I almost forgot!”

Yuri watched in confusion as he ran into the hall only to return a moment later with a gift-wrapped box in his hands.

“You're leaving tomorrow, aren't you?” he asked.

“Yeah...” Yuri said, staring in disbelief at the box. It could only be one thing. Katsuki had brought him a birthday gift.

Sure enough, Katsuki held the box toward him with both hands and a big smile. “Open it when you get to Moscow.”

Yuri took the box, shaking it slightly to see if he could get a clue as to the contents. Katsuki grinned wider at his efforts.

“It's nothing much,” he said, “I just thought it might be useful.”

“OK...?” Yuri said, his tone questioning.

“Viktor says it's bad luck to wish someone a happy birthday early, so I'll just ask you how it went when you come back!” Katsuki said. He seemed a little too pleased with himself. Yuri didn't like it. He considered ripping the present open at that moment to see what sort of stupid gift Katsuki had thought up. But Katsuki might try to stop him, so he decided against it. The box was shoved into his gym bag, where it would be forgotten until the following day.

* * *

He was home sooner than expected. Stepping off the train in Moscow, he began making his way toward the station entrance. He was sure his grandpa would be parked, waiting for him by the side of his old car. But he didn't see his grandpa. Instead, he saw Otabek. He was leaning against the side of his motorcycle, beaming at Yuri.

“Surprise!” he shouted, “Happy Birthday, Yura!”

Yuri hardly knew what to say. A thousand questions rushed through his head, but the first to come out was, “How did you know it was my birthday?”

“The other Yuuri told me.”

“I'm going to kill him.”

“Why?” Otabek asked, looking crestfallen, “You're not happy to see me?”

“No, I am. I'm very happy to see you,” Yuri responded, realizing only after he'd spoken that his words were true. He was so happy he could barely conceal it from Otabek.

“Did you drive all the way here?” he asked as a diversion.

Otabek nodded and stood back from his bike, giving it a fond look. “I thought I could give you a lift from the station. You're going to your grandpa's place, right?”

It was Yuri's turn to nod. The small gesture was all he could manage. He was still trying to process the fact that Otabek was here, in Moscow, wishing Yuri a happy birthday and looking glorious in his leather jacket. Even his helmet hair looked sleek and sexy. Yuri wanted to run his hands through it and pull Otabek's face toward his...

“Yura?”

Yuri hadn't realized that he started to space out until he noticed that Otabek was holding a second helmet out to him. He took it automatically, then realized what Otabek was asking him to do.

Sure, he'd ridden on a bike with Otabek before. But that was Spain, where they spoke for the first time and Yuri only thought of him as a passing acquaintance. No... A perfect stranger. There was no way he'd climb on the back of his bike now! Just the thought of pressing himself against Otabek's back, holding onto his waist as the bike vibrated underneath them...

“I want to ride up front,” Yuri blurted.

Otabek looked surprised, then delighted. “You want to learn how to ride?” he asked, “That's great! I'll teach you.”

Otabek took Yuri's bag from him, slinging it over his own back. Yuri eased onto the motorcycle, trying to calm the frantic beating of his heart. He'd hoped this arrangement would be easier for him to manage than the alternative, but he knew he was in trouble when Otabek slipped into the space right behind him. His arms came around Yuri's sides, gripping the handlebars next to Yuri's hands so that they were touching.

“Gas is here. You break with this. I'll be here to guide you, but I'll let you do all the steering, OK?”

“O-OK,” Yuri stuttered. He was too aware of Otabek's body against him, and he was suddenly terrified of crashing the bike. Somehow, he managed to steer them in the direction of his grandfather's home, though Otabek needed to intervene on more than one occasion to keep them from toppling right over.

Miraculously, the arrived safely in front of Nikolai Plisetsky's house just as he was stepping out the door, car keys in hand, ready to meet his grandson at the train station. He seemed surprised to see Yuri already there, and even more surprised to see him arrive on the back of a motorcycle with someone he'd never seen before.

“Grandpa!” Yuri exclaimed happily. He didn't have to fake his joy. The only person in the world Yuri cared about more than Otabek was his grandpa, and all the difficulty he'd experienced behind the handlebars of Otabek's bike were forgotten the instant he was reunited with his family member.

He sprang off the back of the bike and ran headlong into his grandfather's embrace. Nikolai seemed just as happy to see him, though he continued to stare at Otabek in bewilderment. Yuri pulled away first, following the path of his grandfather's gaze. The Kazak had hung back respectfully to give Yuri and his grandfather their space, but he offered them both a warm smile.

“Yurotchka, it's good to see you! But who is this...?”

Yuri was eager to have his two favorite people meet for the first time. He waved Otabek toward them and moved quickly through the introductions.

“It's nice to meet you, sir,” Otabek said seriously, holding out his hand, “Yuri's told me so much about you.”

“Well he hasn't said anything about you,” Yuri's grandpa said gruffly. He kept glancing over Otabek's shoulder toward the bike parked on the curb. “But any friend of Yurotchka's...”

Nikolai welcomed them both indoors, where Yuri was immediately greeted by a delicious aroma.

“Pirozhki!” he exclaimed, dashing through the living room toward the kitchen, “Otabek, you have to try one! Grandpa makes the best pirozhki in the world!”

The corners of Nikolai's mouth twitched downward - a tell-tale sign that he was flattered by the compliment. He hid his emotion by stating, “It's why I was late picking you up. I just got them finished. Happy Birthday, Yurotchka.”

Yuri split a fresh pirozhki with Otabek, delighted to see that his grandfather had made a few of the Katsudon-inspired pirozhki he'd invented before. He happily explained their significance to Otabek, all the while filling him in on Yuri's impressions of Japan. His grandfather wanted to know more about Yuri's recent trip to Korea, which was a topic both he and Otabek could use to entertain.

Yuri was pleasantly surprised at how comfortable it felt to have Otabek in his childhood home. Any misgivings his grandfather may have had in the beginning seemed to evaporate the more the talked with Otabek. The two of them were sharing tips for motorcycle and vehicle maintenance when Yuri suddenly remembered his other birthday gift.

“I almost forgot!” he exclaimed, jumping up from the table. He ran into the living room where Otabek had left his bag and retrieved the gift Katsuki had given him. He carried it back to the kitchen, resuming his seat across from Otabek and Nikolai.

“Katsuki gave me this before I left,” Yuri explained as he tore off the wrapping. It hid a shoebox that once held a pair of ice-skates.

“New skates?” guessed Otabek.

Yuri didn't think so. The box seemed old, and wasn't labeled for his size. He tilted the lid back to peer inside, and immediately slammed it shut again. His face was on fire. The box had barely been open a second, but it was long enough for Yuri to see what was inside - a jumbo-sized bottle of lube and a box of condoms.

“Yuri?” Otabek asked, “What is it?”

“It's nothing!” Yuri practically screamed. “It's just his idea of a dumb joke!”

Otabek and Nikolai exchanged a glance. They looked to be on the verge of asking a question about the gift, until Yuri interrupted with a quick change of subject.

“Where's my cat?” he asked.

His grandfather appeared even more confused, though he responded that the had last seen Yuri's cat asleep in his room.

“I'll go get her,” Yuri announced, careful not to leave the box unattended. He carried it with him into the living room, where he stopped to stuff the box back into this backpack. He knew his grandfather was too respectful to pry into his things.

“Yuri, I'll come with you,” Otabek said, following him from the room.

They marched up the stairs to the second floor together, Yuri taking the lead. Katsuki's gift was still fresh in his mind and he couldn't calm his blush. He just hoped Otabek wouldn't ask anymore about it.

“I knew it!” Otabek suddenly declared as soon as Yuri had pushed open the partially closed door of his bedroom.

“What?” Yuri asked in shock, worried that Otabek had somehow guessed what he was thinking.

Otabek simply pushed past him and walking into his room.

“Leopard. Blanket,” he stated plainly, flopping down onto Yuri's mattress. “How did I know you'd have a leopard-print blanket?”

His motion disturbed Yuri's cat, who had been curled up asleep on the pillow. She opened her eyes and stared balefully at the interloper before noticing Yuri standing in the doorway. She meowed once in greeting, the climbed to her paws, stretching luxuriously before padding toward Otabek for inspection. Yuri watched as Otabek grew still, watching her approach him and patiently allowing her to sniff at his hair. He seemed to have passed whatever test the cat was conducting, as she promptly began rubbing herself all over Otabek's face.

Otabek took that as his cue to move again. Laughing, he gathered the cat in his arms and sat up, grinning at Yuri as if he'd just won a prize.

“Your cat is like you, Yura,” said Otabek cryptically.

Yuri stared as his cat continued to shamelessly cuddle up in Otabek's arms. “What do you mean by that?”

Otabek rose from the bed so he could ruffle Yuri's hair. “You're both so fluffy!”

Yuri smacked his hand away, though he was careful not to hit too hard. “Ha ha. You're very funny.”

He directed his glare at the cat, who had settled comfortably in Otabek's embrace and was now peering at her master with a kind of calm disregard. “Traitor,” he said to her, “I haven't seen you in months, and you throw yourself at the first man you see.”

“She can't help herself,” Otabek said with a shrug. “Cat's just love me.”

“Is that so?” Yuri said. He couldn't help but smirk.

“True fact,” Otabek said with a solemn nod.

Yuri laughed. “All facts are true, stupid. That's why they're called facts.”

“Well that one was especially true. And now I have something for you.”

He sat Yuri's cat back onto the bed and reached into his jacket. From a pocket concealed in the inner lining, he drew out a flat parcel, wrapped in tiger-striped wrapping paper.

“What's this?” Yuri asked, though he could guess the answer.

“Your birthday present.”

“I thought you were my birthday present,” Yuri commented as he absently turned the parcel over in his hands. He had been wondering what it could be, then realized how his comment must have sounded. Otabek was looking at him with raised eyebrows. “I mean you came all this way!” He said quickly, trying to recover before Otabek could get the wrong idea. “Just getting to see you is good enough.”

“Well, then consider this a bonus. It really isn't much, but I made it for you.”

“You made it?” Yuri asked, finally tearing off the wrapping paper. The flat parcel turned out to be a CD case. Through the transparent cover, Yuri could read the words drawn on the album's surface in Otabek's blocky print.

“ _Yura On Ice_?” Yuri read aloud. “You made me a mix tape?”

“Sort of. It's just one song. But it reminds me of you, so... It's lame, isn't it?”

He could tell that Otabek was feeling self-conscious, and he hadn't forgotten what Otabek told him. Making music was his hobby, and Yuri was flattered that he wanted to include him in that part of his life.

“It isn't lame,” Yuri said, all the while knowing that if anyone but Otabek had pulled a similar stunt, he would never stop shaming them. “Let's listen to it now.”

Most of his music was either on his phone or his laptop, but he still had an old CD player in his room. Placing the disc carefully inside, he hit the play button and took a seat next to Otabek on his bed. In the few seconds of silence before the start of the track, Yuri saw that Otabek had picked up his cat and was burying his face in her fur.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I don't know... I'm kind of embarrassed,” came Otabek's voice, slightly muffled through the fur of the cat. She gave a low meow if indignation and squirmed away. Otabek's face was flushed.

 _He's cute when he's shy..._ thought Yuri. Then the first notes of music began.

He didn't know what he'd been expecting, but it hadn't been this. Otabek had said the music reminded him of Yuri. Under normal circumstances, Yuri would expect to hear something classical, perhaps a soothing ballad appropriate for a ballet, suggesting grace and beauty and poetry in motion. That, at least, was what he had been skating to for most of his professional career. But from the start he could tell that this was not that kind of song. It was electronic, with a heavy base beat you could feel reverberating through your chest, not because of the speakers, which were small, but because it matched the beat of his heart. The song wasn't fast, but it had an energy all its own that made Yuri want to stand and throw himself into a dance. Not ballet. Ballet wouldn't be able to capture the essence of this song. He didn't know how he would dance to it, but he felt like he wanted to try.

He gasped when he heard the melody, a string of notes weaving into the base beat with their own fluid rhythm.

“This is...” he started to say, but he couldn't finish. He recognized the tune. It was the same song Otabek had been humming when they danced the waltz in Korea. It was altered, and the feel of a waltz nearly gone, but the melody was still there.

Otabek smiled at his reaction. Any trace of embarrassment was gone as he saw how well his gift was appreciated, “I did say that it reminded me of you, right? I guess it's more accurate to say that this is what I hear when I think of you.”

“This?” Yuri asked, completely caught off guard, “But this is... Usually my music is more...”

He was struggling to express himself, but Otabek already understood what he was trying to say. He nodded his head knowingly, “But that stuff isn't like you. Not really. It's too pretty. You're not pretty.”

He must have seen something sour in Yuri's expression, because he chucked and said, “Come on, you know I think your skating is beautiful. But you could be so much more than that. Remember what I said about the first time I saw you?”

“You said I had the eyes of a solider,” Yuri quoted. After all this time talking with Otabek, he still wasn't sure what he'd meant by that comment. It was by far the most cryptic thing he'd ever said, considering he was pretty blunt about everything else.

“I still think that about you,” Otabek said as the song belted out its last powerful notes, “And one day everyone else is gonna see it, too. I just have to make sure I get at least one gold medal over you before that happens.”

“Never gonna happen,” Yuri said, playfully pushing against Otabek's shoulder.

“Why not?” Otabek said, gently pushing him back. “I think I have a good chance. If your hair gets any longer, you'll trip over it and break your leg. Then I'll win by default.”

“My hair isn't that long...” Yuri started to argue, but Otabek took away his next words, surprising him by brushing the hair out of his face.

He'd done it once before, and it had sent chills up Yuri's spine. This time felt different. Perhaps it was the intimacy of being in his room, sitting together on the edge of his bed, but Otabek's touch lit a fire inside him. It could have been his imagination, but it seemed to him as if Otabek's fingers lingered just a second longer against Yuri's cheek. Their eyes met, and it almost seemed as if Otabek leaned closer toward him.

 _He's going to kiss me!_ Yuri thought, almost panicked. But Otabek had pulled away.

“I should go,” he said abruptly.

“Wait, what? But you just got here!” Yuri complained.

“I know. But I've got a long drive back. I can't miss too much practice. I've got to win a gold medal at Worlds, after all.”

Yuri didn't understand. Otabek was talking just as he always did, but something seemed odd. He was leaving too suddenly. Yuri couldn't shake the feeling that he'd done or said something wrong, but he felt like trying to force Otabek to stay would jeopardize revealing his feelings. Instead, he tried to mirror Otabek's casual conversation with their usual banter.

“As if I'm going to let you take the gold medal from me.”

He told himself he was stupid for feeling disappointed. It didn't matter if he was 16 or 61. Otabek was never going to see him as anything but a kid. He felt like an idiot for expecting anything more.

 


	8. Let Your Tiger Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I told some of you that I'd update on the 30th, but for once I'm ahead of schedule! This chapter is as good as it's going to get, so why wait to update? With this chapter the unrequited love plot is basically resolved, but I promised you all some smut! Fear not! I'll make good on that promise in the next update. After all, I know what you're all really here for (you perverts).
> 
> For now, enjoy!

The World Championship. As a Junior, he'd competed at Worlds numerous times, but this was his first year competing in the Senior division. He put on a brave front for Yakov, feigning his usual cocky overconfidence, but in truth, he was intimidated. He hid the emotion as he always did, taking careful, slow breaths and watching the other skaters with an air of detachment.

All the usual suspects were there. Yuri avoided looking toward the spot where JJ stood, his fiance at his side, and turned instead toward Chris, who was trying to draw Seung-gil into conversation. There were several skaters from Asia and the Americas whose names Yuri deemed not important enough to remember. And of course, there was Viktor and Yuuri Katsuki, still sickeningly in love.

As usual, Yuri didn't like seeing them together. He averted his gaze and continued to search for the one person he really cared about in this competition.

He spied Otabek before the other noticed him. Yuri had time to admire the way his hair looked when styled for competition. From there it was a simple matter to observe the contour of his face, the lines of his neck, and the shape of his pecs, sharply defined in his tight spandex skating costume. Yuri forgot himself. He began fantasizing about ripping off Otabek's outfit with his teeth when the Kazakh skater met his eye.

His first expression was one of pleasure, a soft smile spreading across his sensuous lips. But had Yuri blinked he might have missed it, it vanished so fast. In its place there was a small frown, little more than a crease between his dark brows.

Yuri felt an unpleasant twist in his gut. This wasn't the first meeting he'd had with Otabek since their arrival in Helsinki. They'd met the day before at the hotel and spent the afternoon together. Yuri had enjoyed himself, but it wasn't without some reservation. Otabek was a quiet person to begin with, but he had been even more taciturn. He'd thought Otabek seemed distracted, even annoyed at times. Seeing the small frown on his face as he walked toward Yuri confirmed of those fears. Perhaps he'd done something to offend him? He wanted to apologize, but he didn't know how to begin, or even what he'd done wrong.

The obvious answer was that Otabek had guessed the truth. He knew about Yuri's crush, and the knowledge made him awkward when they were together. But this was too terrible a possibility to consider. Otabek could be angry with him for another reason, or simply nervous about performing at Worlds. Yuri decided to take a page out of Otabek's book, and try the direct approach.

“Are you feeling OK?” he asked when Otabek reached his side, “You've seemed a little... Quiet since yesterday.”

“Just nerves,” Otabek grunted in response.

Yuri wasn't convinced. He knew for certain that something else was wrong, and he was equally certain that the something was him.

He decided not to press the issue. If Otabek was angry, then he risked making matters worse by forcing him to talk about it. And if it was just nerves, he wasn't going to improve Otabek's mood by harping on about his feelings. It was better to act natural.

Besides, he had a short program to perform.

They did their warm-ups together in silence. Otabek seemed determined not to look at Yuri, much less speak to him, which afforded Yuri ample time to watch him unobserved. Otabek's lips were now set in a thin line. His expression was intense, focused. When they parted ways just before Yuri's performance, Otabek barely muttered “good luck.”

Yuri's thoughts were full of him as he skated to center ice. He felt miserable about how things were going with Otabek, and hopeless to know how to set things right. But this was the World Championship, and he couldn't lose focus now.

A voice broke through the welcoming cheers of the crowd.

“Yura, good luck!”

Yuri's gaze found Otabek in the crowd. Even from a distance he could see that Otabek still wore a slight frown, but he waved and clapped in the stands, cheering him on. He flashed Yuri a thumbs-up when their gaze met, and Yuri couldn't stop himself from returning the gesture, childish as it seemed.

What was it Katsuki had said to him before? Something about how he used his feelings for Vicktor in his performance... Yuri thought he understood what he meant. His head swirled with combating emotions. He was still worried about Otabek's persistent frown, but filled with happiness that he continued to cheer for him. And he was confused... What made Otabek so silent when they were together, but so loud when seated far away in the stands? It was a puzzle Yuri couldn't solve, and as he moved through the jumps and step sequences of his short program, he tried to work out his conflicting emotions through the song.

The effect was powerful. He was gasping by the end of the performance, and the crowd's thunderous applause informed him that the routine had been a success. He accepted a cat plush that had fallen to the ice and waved to the audience, a performer's rehearsed smile on his face. He searched for Otabek, wondering what he thought of the program. But Otabek had disappeared from his seat.

Yuri crushed the feeling of disappointment that threatened him. Otabek had gone to prepare for his own performance, nothing more. But as he sat between Yakov and Lilia in the Kiss and Cry, he found himself musing over Otabek's absence. When had he left his seat? Did he stay to see the whole routine?

“Your score was good,” Yakov said, dispensing a rare bit of praise. Then he started on the lecture, “But you're getting too complacent. Just because you took the gold at the Grand Prix doesn't mean you're guaranteed a victory now! Remember that Viktor is here to complete!”

Yuri barely listened to him. He muttered a response he hoped would satisfy Yakov, hardly knowing what he said. He wanted to get away. Otabek would be skating soon...

In the stands he watched Otabek, his dark skating costume creating a dramatic silhouette on the ice. He hadn't even begun his routine yet, but the way he moved was mesmerizing.

Yuri cupped his hands over his mouth and bellowed as loud as he could, “BEKA, GOOD LUCK!”

He expected some recognition from Otabek, a sign that he had been heard. But Otabek either hadn't heard him, or ignored his shouts.

His song began. Yuri knew this routine as well as his own. He'd watched Otabek perform it so many times. But this time something was wrong. Otabek seemed to be having trouble keeping up with the beat. It threw off his choreography, and Yuri could tell that he'd had to improvise to cover a few mistakes right off the bat. He watched as a planned triple axel turned into a double, followed by a sloppy spin sequence. This wasn't like Otabek at all.

Then it happened. Otabek risked a jump in the second half of his performance, perhaps trying to make up for lost points. But his approach had been all wrong, and he couldn't stick the landing. Yuri bit back a scream as Otabek crashed to the ice. He'd been unable to catch himself as he'd been trained to do as a professional skater. He slid a few feet, hands scrabbling against the ice, leg pinned underneath him painfully.

Somehow, he managed to regain his feet. The audience offered polite applause, as if to bolster his spirit to complete the routine. But the damage had been catastrophic. There was no doubt that it had been his worst performance of the season.

Yuri rushed directly to the Kiss and Cry, anxious to talk with Otabek about what happened and offer what comfort he could. But he hesitated. He could see Otabek seated next to his coach, their expressions grave. It would be intrusive to approach Otabek now.

He waited until the score had been given. A predictably low number. Otabek stood, his expression resigned, and waved to the sympathetic crowd. Yuri waited for an opening, and dashed to Otabek's side as soon as he could.

“Beka...” he said realizing too late that he had no idea what to say next.

“It's all right, Yuri,” Otabek said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Someone has to come in last.”

Yuri was surprised. This seemed like an odd comment to make for someone who had just been claiming he'd steal the gold medal from Yuri. He told Otabek as much, and received only another shrug of the shoulders in response.

“Otabek... What happened out there?”

“Like I said, nerves,” Otabek replied, “You were fantastic, by the way.”

“Don't try to change the subject!” Yuri complained. He was tired of Otabek brushing him off and avoiding his gaze. He placed himself directly in front of Otabek, forcing him to make eye contact, daring him to look away.

He did, his gaze drifting away from Yuri's and moving down toward his skates. Yuri knew then that he was right. Otabek was hiding something from him.

“Maybe I just don't want to talk about it right now?” Otabek said, the question in his own voice, as if he himself wasn't sure of his feelings.

“It's happened to me before, too,” Yuri reminded him. “Remember what you said? You told me talk to you, and not try to hide. That goes for you, too. You can talk to me.”

“I don't want to tell you.”

Yuri was more than stunned. He was hurt and angry. It was Otabek who urged Yuri not to hide his feelings when they met in Gangneung. Why couldn't Otabek take his own advice? He thought their friendship meant more than petty secrets.

He didn't trust himself to share these thoughts with Otabek. He was too saddened and angry for speech. When the silence continued, Otabek finally glanced up at him. He must have seen something in Yuri's expression to startle him, because he leaned closer. He lifted his hands as if to grip Yuri's shoulders, but he let them drop to his sides again before he could complete the gesture.

“Don't misunderstand,” he said, remorse coloring his voice, “I meant that I don't want to tell you right now. But I will tell you, Yuri. I'll tell you anything you want to know.”

“When?” Yuri asked.

“After the Championship.” He offered Yuri another of his small smiles, “You'll have to take the gold for both of us, now.”

* * *

Otabek, with the lowest short program score of any skater at the Championship, was in the first group to perform the next day. Yuri met him at the hotel early that morning and stuck close to his side the whole day. He was past worrying about upsetting Otabek further. After all, in every other way he seemed the same as always. But his performance yesterday, and the mysterious reason behind it, was like a glass wall between them. Every time Yuri thought things were normal again, he'd try to approach the subject, and run head-first into the invisible barrier separating him from Otabek's private thoughts.

Honestly, it was starting to irritate him.

“You know, you'd probably feel better if you just talked about it,” he said again while Otabek laced up his skates.

“About what?” Otabek asked.

“Don't play dumb. The thing that's bothering you. The thing you're not talking to me about.”

“I already told you, _after_ the Championship.”

“But it'll be too late then! What if it screws up your performance today, too? _Huh_?”

“It doesn't matter how I do today. The gap is too wide for me to catch up now.”

Otabek fumbled with the laces. He couldn't seem to get his own skates tied. Yuri knelt before him and slapped Otabek's hands away. He started tying up the skates himself, trying to ignore the fact that Otabek was leaning over him.

“I still don't understand why you can't just talk to me now. If you really think it doesn't matter...”

“I don't want to upset you before your performance,” Otabek stated.

Yuri lifted his head and glared at him. “Do I look like I'm not upset?”

Otabek grinned at him and tugged at Yuri's ponytail. Yuri flinched away from him, reaching up to shield his hair.

“Don't! Lilia just got that styled!”

“Are you mad at me, Yura?” Otabek asked, as if he hadn't noticed Yuri's flushed face.

Yuri considered the question seriously before responding. “I think you're being stupid and I don't like that you're keeping secrets from me,” he said. He found that mimicking Otabek's straightforward honesty was often easier than hiding his emotions behind a sneer.

“Good,” said Otabek, “Use that on the ice.”

“Excuse me?”

“I like your skating best when you're angry about something,” Otabek said with a small laugh.

Yuri wasn't laughing. “Is that the real reason why you're doing this? To make me mad for your own amusement?”

But Otabek shook his head and raised a finger to his lips, signaling his intention to remain silent.

This time Yuri would not be watching from the stands. He waited right at the edge of the rink, mere feet away from where Otabek would be exiting the ice at the end of his performance. He wasn't going to let his shyness keep him from the Kiss and Cry this time.

To his immense relief, Otabek didn't have any major mistakes like yesterday. It wasn't merely that Yuri hated to see him fail, but more than that, he couldn't bear to see Otabek fall again. He was sure Otabek carried bruises from yesterday, but Otabek had given his offer for a personal inspection a hard refusal. Unfortunately, his free skate was still sub-par. His movements were stiff and awkward, not like his usual performance at all. Yuri wondered if it was the effect of whatever was on Otabek's mind, or if it was his bruises hindering his movements.

Yuri didn't need to hear the score to know that Otabek finished among the worst of the skaters. He was right when he said he wouldn't be able to close the gap. That didn't stop Yuri for cheering for him louder than anyone else. He wanted to congratulate his friend for pulling through, no matter the score, and now that Otabek's performance was complete, perhaps he'd be willing to share with Yuri the thoughts he had been hiding...

He met up with Otabek as he left the ice, pushing past his friend's coach with an air of entitlement only a best friend can wield. He opened his mouth to congratulate Otabek, as planned, but could see from Otabek's expression that he wasn't in the mood for congratulations. Yuri closed his mouth again with a near-audible snap. He shifted from foot to foot, wanting to hug him or pat him on the shoulder and not knowing what to do. Despite what he said before, Otabek was competitive. Of course he'd be unhappy with his performance.

“Will you come sit with me, Yuri?” Otabek asked.

Yuri wasn't expecting the question. He flinched in surprise and managed to nod his head vigorously. Otabek smiled, and together with his coach they made their way to the Kiss and Cry. Yuri had never accompanied another skater to this area to receive scores before. He was amazed at how Otabek could remain so poised, even in the face of defeat, and watched his expression for a hint of what emotions he held within. Then Otabek surprised him again by reaching out toward Yuri. He didn't say anything, but Yuri could tell what he wanted just by the simple gesture. Cupping his hand around Otabek's, he turned toward the monitors in front of them, ready to receive the scores.

Yuri knew better than to push Otabek for information when he felt depressed, though Otabek denied being too disappointed.

“I knew it was going to be bad, Yura,” he said casually, “Anyway, there's always next season.”

Yuri knew Otabek would never admit half of what he really felt. And yet he accepted the lies, for Otabek's sake. He told the truth often enough that he could afford to lie every now and then, even if the only person he fooled was himself.

Yuri was still thinking of him just before the start of his own performance. Otabek told him to use his anger. He was going to take that advice, but he wasn't angry now. As the song selected by Lilia commenced – faster than that of his short program, Yuri channeled the frustration that had been building over the past few months.

A part of him knew what was happening, that he was landing every jump and twirling effortlessly through every spin. But through it all he kept his mind on Otabek. He was watching the performance. Yuri knew that for sure. Did he like what he saw? Was the emotion Yuri brought to his routine as good as anger? Could Otabek guess how he was feeling from the way he moved?

He didn't get a chance to ask him. The results were sealed as soon as Yuri finished his performance. The audience threatened to collapse the stadium with the force of their cheers. Flowers and stuffed toys rained down onto the ice in such quantities as to make exiting the rink hazardous. But Yuri weaved around them without care, pausing to select a stuffed cat and wave his thanks to the audience. He knew he had done well, but he had no idea how perfect the performance had been until he saw the final score.

He won. His combined score beat that of Viktor, Katsuki, everyone... Yuri Plisetsky had won the World Championship, and he was only 16 years old.

 _Beka..._ Yuri thought as Yakov wrapped him in a paternal hug. Lilia was dabbing the tears from her eyes and a crowd of reporters was already trying to push their way toward him for a statement. But first he had to congratulate the other skaters, and the award ceremony to follow...

 _Where is Beka?_ He thought, a sense of desperation descending upon him. Finally, he spied his friend standing several yards away, watching him over the crowd of well-wishers. His eye met Yuri's and he smiled, flashing him a thumbs up.

Pride waged against remorse as he watched Otabek turn away and head out the door.

* * *

After the World Championships, Yuri had been too swamped with interview requests and the harassment... or rather the _attention_ of his fangirls. He wanted to catch up with Otabek after the ceremony, but he'd already disappeared back to his hotel room. Yuri texted him that night, and hadn't received a response by the next morning. And he still didn't know what was bothering him.

Well, he knew what was bothering him _now._ He'd come in dead last, while his best friend, as Yuri was fond of thinking of himself, had taken first place in his debut year on the senior circuit. Yuri tried placing himself in Otabek's position. If it were him, he'd be furious with himself. Yuri couldn't blame him for ignoring his texts.

He wanted to see Otabek, not just to talk but to be near him. Yuri was starting to crave his physical presence as much as he relied on his texts for entertainment throughout the day. But it seemed cruel to force his attention on Otabek now. Besides, he was sure to capture his attention on the ice.

After the Championships, the skaters planned an exposition. Yuri was practically shaking with excitement. He took a deep breath to steady himself, then entered the rink.

He had to beg Yakov to let him change songs at the last minute with just a month to prepare a new routine. In the end, only the fact that the expo wasn't worth any points convinced Yakov to let Yuri try.

He didn't have long to wait for the beat to drop. The song Otabek wrote for him started strong with a heavy base beat, interspersed with melodic tones which raced like electricity through his veins, spurring him into action. Yuri couldn't glide to this routine with the grace and beauty Lilia had taught him. The music demanded that he throw himself into the dance. And so he did.

A month was not long enough to master a new style of dance. Yuri had choreographed this routine by himself after watching hours of skating videos featuring Otabek. Yuri mimicked his movements now. Otabek wrote this song because it reminded him of Yuri – a fact that he remembered as leapt into his first jump. He went a little wild on the landing, but then the song was wild too. It was different from his usual skating, but somehow, it felt more like himself.

His thoughts continued to stray toward Otabek as he wondered where in the audience he was, and what he thought of Yuri's exposition. But the song demanded too much attention to allow him to be distracted for long. Yuri performed the toe loop he had planned, then decided to do a bit of free-styling. He couldn't help but laugh as he performed a series of spins. This was fun.

He played to the audience, enjoying their looks of surprise. Gathering speed, he was close enough to the edge of the rink to skate right past Viktor and Katsuki. He smirked at the dumbfounded looks on their faces, pulling off another jump right before them, just to show off.

The song was starting to wind down, so Yuri slid to center ice, pulling into a final spin set – his specialty – to show off his flexibility once more before the song's abrupt end.

For a moment, there was silence. Then the audience broke into an uproar. Yuri was showered with flowers and tiger plushies, far more than he expected for a mere exposition performance. The smile Yuri gave to the audience as he bowed and waved was genuine. He'd never had more fun skating a routine, not even when he was first learning.

He scanned the crowd for Otabek as he turned to acknowledge his fans, but he couldn't find him among the audience. He could see Viktor and Katsuki cheering, Viktor shouting louder than anyone else in Russian while Katsuki clapped at his side, mouth still agape with amazement. Even JJ and his fiance cheered for him, seated next to Chris who was busy tossing his own bouquet of flowers onto the ice. But where was Otabek?

The ongoing cheers of the audience swelled, and Yuri instinctively turned to look over his shoulder to see what had caused the commotion.

Otabek was skating across the ice toward him, his expression unreadable. Yuri's stomach clenched as he wondered if he'd made a mistake.

“I'm sorry,” be blurted as Otabek drew ever closer. He held his palms out as if to defend himself, “I should have asked you before I used the song. Are you mad?”

“Mad?” Otabek asked when he was only a foot away. Then he swept Yuri into a tight embrace. He lifted him up so that Yuri's skates left the ice, nearly toppling them both over in the process. But he regained his balance, and instead the two of them performed a slow spin before Otabek set Yuri back down.

Yuri was at a loss for words. He gently pushed back from Otabek, acutely aware of his hands pressed against the other's chest. He couldn't get far, as Otabek seemed disinclined to release him, but he managed to get enough distance to stare into Otabek's face. With their skates on, they were almost the same height. They were a little too close for comfort.

“So... I take it you aren't mad about the song?” Yuri said as the seconds ticked by and they continued to stare at each other.

Otabek's stoic expression melted into a warm smile, “I wrote it for you, dummy.”

“Right... Thanks again,” said Yuri lamely. “It... it was fun... To try something other than ballet...”

“You were beautiful,” Otabek said, squeezing him tighter.

Yuri frowned, “I wasn't trying to be beautiful that time.”

“You were sexy,” corrected Otabek.

“W-What?!” stammered Yuri, no longer certain that he wasn't just dreaming again.

“Yura... Are you going to be my boyfriend or not?”

There was only one response he could give. Sliding his hands further up Otabek's chest, he wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him close. Their lips pressed together in a kiss that Yuri hoped conveyed just how long he'd been waiting for Otabek to ask him that question.

“But wait,” Yuri said, pulling away with a gasp, “What was it you were waiting to tell me?”

“Stupid,” Otabek said, the word a growl in the back of his throat, “Can't you guess?”

He caught Yuri's lips in a kiss as passionate as the one Yuri gave him, and for a moment Yuri allowed himself to be lost in that moment, enjoying the taste of Otabek's mouth while he pulled against the tight fabric of his skating uniform.

Then he remembered that they were standing at center ice, and a crowd of international figure skating fans stared at them. He smacked Otabek's back frantically to signal that they needed to stop, and turned, flushed with shame, to peek at the audience. To his surprise, most of the crowd was still clapping enthusiastically. His fangirls dominated one corner of the arena, screaming in either jubilation or agony at the sight of this budding relationship. Yuuri Katsuki appeared to be doing a sort of victory dance, while Viktor covered his mouth with one hand. Yuri could imagine him saying “Wow!” in that way he does...

“We should go...” Yuri muttered.

Otabek chuckled, “You're so passionate, Yura.”

“ _Shut up_.”

Hand in hand, they skated off to the edge of the rink. Yakov met them there, looking stern. He eyed Otabek with disapproval, but then that was his default expression.

“Erm... Did you like the performance?” Yuri asked him.

“Yuri... You're going to end up just like Viktor.”

“Hey, I just won a gold medal! Lay off!”

“Exactly. I expect at least four more.”

“Four?”

“Consecutively.”

Yuri gaped at him, and to his surprise, Yakov laughed, “If you keep skating like that, you shouldn't have any problem surpassing Viktor!”

“I'll have to write you some more music,” said Otabek, then added, “If you're going to be the new Viktor... Does that make me the new Yuuri Katsuki?”

“Fuck you, I'm Yuuri Katsuki,” Yuri argued, “We have the same name.”

“Excuse me, but you're the one with the gold medal. You're Viktor.”

“I don't want to be Viktor! He's a spaz!”

“Exactly, your personalities match.”

“How dare - ?!”

“Enough!” Interrupted Yakov. “You're both Viktor!”

“What?” Otabek asked while Yuri wailed, “Why?!”

“Because you're both annoying. Now get out of here and get changed for the gala!”

Yuri rolled his eyes and tugged on Otabek's arm. As they left the stadium, Yakov's voice trailed after them.

“And absolutely no drinking! I will not tolerate another drunken dance-off!”

 


	9. Feels Like the First Time

Making out with Otabek had become Yuri's new favorite pastime. In fact, they were currently sprawled on the bed, lips locked and tongues intertwined.

Yuri loved kissing him. He loved the feel of his rough hands as they explored the skin under Yuri's shirt even more. But something had been bothering him. Otabek always stopped before going anywhere under the belt. They'd been dating for months, and always the same result - heavy petting with no penetration.

This time would be different. Otabek would be returning to Kazakhstan tomorrow, and Yuri wanted to make the most of this time together.

“Beka,” Yuri groaned as Otabek trailed kisses down his neck, “Touch me more!”

Otabek ran his fingers over Yuri's pecs, fondling the hard nipple he found there. Yuri gasped in response to the stimulation, but ground his teeth in frustration.

“No... Not there... _Here_...” he said, taking Otabek's hand in his own and guiding it down to the hard bulge in his pants.

Otabek immediately pulled away, looking down at Yuri with a guilty expression.

“Beka...?” Yuri asked, propping himself up on his elbows.

“Yuri... There's something I need to tell you...”

 _He doesn't want to have sex with me..._ Yuri thought, though he dismissed the idea in an instant. Otabek wouldn't be kissing Yuri like this if he wasn't attracted to him. So what could it be?

“I... I'm a virgin.”

Yuri stared at him. He hadn't expected that.

“Oh... Well, that's OK. So am I.”

He'd hoped to give Otabek some comfort, but he continued to look distressed.

“The thing is... I don't really know what I'm doing...”

This was an unanticipated hindrance, but Yuri wasn't going to let this opportunity slide. If Otabek was unsure, then Yuri would take the lead.

“Sit down,” he commanded.

Otabek looked at him with surprise, but he complied without a word. Pushing himself off Yuri, he sat at the edge of the bed, waiting to see what would happen next.

Yuri crawled to the floor and knelt before him, reaching for the fastening of Otabek's pants. Otabek flinched, as if suppressing a desire to prevent what was coming next, but Yuri pretended not to notice.

Yuri eased down Otabek's pants and underwear to reveal his thick cock. Otabek was already slightly hard, evidence that he'd been holding back during their make-out sessions just as much as Yuri.

 _Well, Beka..._ thought Yuri to himself, _You won't have to hold back anymore..._

He flicked his tongue over Otabek's tip, then tried licking along his shaft. A salty flavor filled his mouth. Yuri continued to lick the head of Otabek's dick as he gently stroked his shaft with one hand, admiring the smooth texture.

He'd been experimenting, testing this new sensation for himself without really thinking about Otabek. Wondering if he was enjoying the feeling, Yuri began to lick him in earnest, staring up into Otabek's face.

Otabek watched him at work. He twitched, his brows knitting together. He didn't say anything, but his dick grew firmer against Yuri's tongue, speaking for him.

Yuri grinned and pulled Otabek's glans fully into his mouth, sucking on him. His mouth filled with saliva, and he could taste something else. There was a slightly bitter flavor he assumed was Otabek's precum. Otabek was getting off on Yuri's blowjob.

Feeling pretty satisfied with himself, he continued to suck, using his lips against Otabek's shaft while his tongue continued to press against his head. He couldn't take Otabek's whole length in his mouth, he wasn't skilled enough for that yet, but as he continued to bob his head up and down, Otabek's hips started to move restlessly. He was panting now – an honest, straightforward reaction that Yuri considered very like him.

Otabek's heavy panting turned into a long moan, and he suddenly grabbed Yuri by the hair, tugging him away from his dick.

“Otabek?” Yuri asked, confused for a moment. But one look at Otabek's face and he realized, “Gonna cum?”

Otabek flushed a deep pink, “Yeah... I think so.”  
“Not yet,” Yuri said instantly, “Lie down on the bed.”

Otabek's eyes widened, but to Yuri's amazement he put up no resistance. He positioned himself on the bed while Yuri went to search his duffle bag. He had to dig to the very bottom, but he found his prize. The box containing Katsuki's birthday gift to him was crammed to one side. Yuri tore the top off the box and grabbed the tube of lubricant it contained, returning to the bed before Otabek had time to cool off.

“What are you doing? Take off your shirt.” Yuri said, noting that Otabek was still dressed from the waist up.

Once again, Otabek did what he was told, though he was distracted by the tube in Yuri's hand.

“Where did you get that?”

“It was a gift.” Yuri said as he stood at the foot of the bed, stripping off his own clothes so he stood before Otabek completely naked.

Otabek's gaze ran over Yuri's body, though Yuri could tell he was trying to avoid staring between his legs. His tone was cold when he asked, “A gift from who?”

“Are you jealous?” Yuri asked playfully, “Well you can relax, it was a stupid joke. That dumbass Yuuri Katsuki gave it to me for my birthday.”  
“Katsuki did?” Otabek repeated as Yuri climbed onto the bed, his legs straddling Otabek's hips.

Yuri wasn't sure how much lube to use, but he figured in this case more is more. He pooled a healthy amount in his palm and reached around to his backside.

“Yuri...” Otabek said, jaw slack as he stared at the sight of Yuri sitting over him, pushing his lube-soaked fingers inside himself one-by-one. Yuri smirked at Otabek's obvious arousal. He was feeling pretty excited himself. He stared down at Otabek's girth and slowly scissored his fingers open, spreading himself as wide as he could. He didn't want his first time with Otabek to hurt.

When he felt like he was ready, he ran his lube-slicked hand along Otabek's shaft for good measure. Otabek's hips bucked in response.

“Yura... please... hurry...”

That's when Yuri had an idea. He pulled off his hair-tie, letting his blond locks fall around his face. He wrapped the elastic band around the base of Otabek's erect cock. Otabek made no move to stop him, but he stared up at Yuri quizzically.

“I heard about this online,” Yuri explained, “I guess it's supposed to keep you from cumming, or something.”

“OK... but why?” Otabek asked.

Until now, he'd been completely in control. Now he felt a little shy about the situation as he admitted, “Because... I want to feel good too.”

With that, Yuri lowered his hips.

“ _Nn_... so tight...” he muttered without meaning to. He was stretching himself open bit by bit, sliding over Otabek's head. The lube made it easier, but Otabek's cock wasn't the same as Yuri's slender fingers. Not by a long shot. At last he took in Otabek's length, sliding all the way down to the base, his ass sticking firmly to Otabek's hips.

Yuri couldn't hold back a gasp as he got accustomed to the intense pressure. He trembled. His dick had grown a bit soft when he'd been forcing Otabek in, but he returned to full firmness as he gradually grew used to the sensation.

Otabek reached out as if to grab Yuri's dick, but Yuri slapped him away.

“No... Don't... I don't want to cum yet,” Yuri said between light gasps.

“Oh...” Otabek said, the word more a groan than an acknowledgment. Yuri could tell he was feeling impatient, but he liked being in control. He wasn't ready to yield to Otabek just yet.

“Don't move,” he commanded. Instantly, the small movements Otabek had been making beneath him ceased. Yuri felt a little shocked by how obedient Otabek could be. He was starting to realize he would do whatever Yuri said.

He closed his eyes and shifted around, trying to get comfortable. Each little movement he made elicited a small moan from Otabek. When he opened his eyes again it was to see Otabek, flushed and sweating, staring back at Yuri with blown pupils. Yuri smiled at him and pressed his hands onto Otabek's chest, allowing them to take his weight. Using his arms and hips, he slowly moved up and down.

“Haah... _ahh_...”

His movements were sluggish at first. He considered himself to be in great physical shape, but he wasn't used to this kind of motion. Already a thin layer of sweat had formed, and his breath was labored from even this small exertion. And yet there was no pain. Yuri felt nothing but pleasure as he rocked himself back and forth along Otabek's length.

“Does it hurt?” Otabek asked.

Yuri shook his head. “No... I'm fine... _ah... haah!_ ”

He was astonished to find that he could feel this aroused from his ass alone. Otabek was being compliant and hadn't made another move to touch Yuri's bulging cock. Yuri chased the feeling of gratification he was getting from behind. He continued to lift his hips and slowly lower down, burying Otabek to the hilt. On occasion, he would twist his hips to grind against Otabek, causing the other to squirm beneath him.

“I said don't move!” Yuri warned, wanting to see how long Otabek would allow himself to be bossed around.

Otabek attempted to obey, but not without a protest, “I can't help it when you squeeze down like that!”

Yuri was confused. He thought Otabek meant the hands resting on his chest, until he realized that he was talking about his ass clenching around his dick.

“You mean like this?” Yuri asked tauntingly. He repeated the move, squeezing Otabek from tip to base in one long stroke.

Otabek cried out and moved to cover his mouth. Yuri didn't stop moving his hips, alternating firm squeezes between each long stroke.

“Don't...” Yuri said, “I want to hear you...”

Otabek looked up at Yuri, his eyes shining with tears caused by his own arousal. Then he pulled his trembling hand away from his mouth and used it to grip the bed-cover beneath him.

Yuri smiled, pleased by Otabek's unfailing obedience, and ground against Otabek's groin again. He threw his head back, feeling Otabek suddenly bend back inside of him.

“Hey!” He exhaled as he continued to ride Otabek at a teasingly slow pace, “I didn't give you permission to move... Why are you... _ah_... _arching_ like that?”

“I can't help it...” Otabek said, his voice husky, “You're so beautiful, Yura.”

It was Yuri's turn for an involuntary response. He squeezed down on Otabek's cock again, causing Otabek to moan loudly. He was no longer trying to restrain his voice.

Yuri liked the sound. He tried to quicken his pace, wanting to hear more of Otabek's voice, but it wasn't easy to do in this position.

“Fuck...” Yuri cursed after he'd rocked rhythmically against Otabek for a few seconds, “This is hard.”

Otabek chuckled between his panting. Yuri blushed.

“I mean moving like this! It's difficult...”

“Let me help,” Otabek said, shifting to grip Yuri's hips, but Yuri stopped him, catching his wrists.

“No! Not yet!”

He lifted his hips desperately, pulling away from Otabek almost entirely before dropping down in one long motion. He wanted to move faster, but he didn't think he could manage like this.

Otabek was starting to lose what composure he had left. He was squirming on the mattress despite Yuri's admonitions. Yuri decided to tease him a bit more.

“Want to come?” he asked.

Otabek gasped again and nodded.

“Me too...” Yuri said, his tone coaxing, “Riding you.... and feeling you inside me... so deep... feels amazing, Beka...”

Otabek's voice grew more frantic as he moaned desperately, unable to hold back any longer. He twisted under Yuri, panting, close to climax. Yuri wondered what would happen if he came while the elastic band was still around his cock. Then Otabek suddenly thrust upward, his reward a startled cry of ecstasy from Yuri.

He continued to pound into Yuri from below, rutting against him without reservation. He grabbed Yuri's hips to gain a better hold on him. In the shifted position, he hit a different place within Yuri, drawing out a howl of intense pleasure.

“ _There_!” cried Yuri, moving his hips to meet Otabek's thrusts, “ _Ah_... _yes!_ ”

Otabek, responding to Yuri's pleas, relentlessly attacked his sweet spot. Yuri was unable to move himself anymore. It was taking all of his energy to support himself with his hands pressed against Otabek's chest. They were both covered in sweat, trembling in every limb. For a moment, his hands slipped, and he lost his balance. His body stiffened, not willing to lose the tingling feeling spreading from his hips down his thighs. He forced himself back down on Otabek, who didn't cease the aggressive movement of his hips.

Yuri tossed back his hair as the muscles of his abs and thighs tightened.

“Beka... I'm gonna cum!”

Otabek could only moan in response and continue to plunge relentlessly into the point where Yuri felt the most pleasure.

“C-Coming...!” Yuri wailed just before he reached climax. Semen flew from his trembling shaft, spreading white spots over Otabek's stomach and chest. His hips trembled. His dick was still bouncing from the small movements Otabek continued to make beneath him. He seemed to be riding out the waves of his own orgasm, though the hair-tie seemed to have prevented him from cumming inside Yuri.

Yuri watched him in a daze as Otabek's chest heaved with each heavy sigh. The milky white dots of Yuri's semen covered his torso as he stared back at Yuri.

“Photo...” Yuri muttered to himself before repeating in a louder voice, “I need a photo!”

He pulled himself off of Otabek and immediately stumbled getting off the bed, his legs wobbly. “Woah!” he exclaimed, barely managing to catch himself before he fell to the floor.

“Yuri...!” Otabek said, sounding concerned. He started to rise when Yuri stopped him.

“I'm fine! Just a little shaky! You stay right there! Don't move!”

He grabbed his phone off the dresser and turned, ready to snap a picture of Otabek in post-coitus glory.

“Yuri...” Otabek said again, this time with a look of warning, “I don't want this posted online.”

“Are you crazy?! I would never do that!”

“Then why...?”

“This is for when you go back to Kazakhstan. I'll need something for...” Here he stopped. It was lucky he was still flushed from the sex, because he would be blushing furiously right now.

Otabek noted the sudden pause and smirked, “Yura... do you think of me when you masturbate?”

“... Is that bad?”

“On the contrary. I'd be insulted if you didn't.”

“Well, in that case...” Yuri lifted his phone and took the picture.

“Satisfied?” asked Otabek.

“For the moment.”

“Then can I take this off?” He gestured toward his cock. It was still hard, and slightly red from the restricted blood flow. Yuri bit his lip, hoping that he hadn't tied it too tight.

“Let me...” he said, pulling the elastic band off of Otabek's swollen cock. Semen immediately began to ooze out of the tip. Otabek sighed and leaned back against the pillows on the bed, the last of his energy gone.

“So... You like to be told what to do?” Yuri asked, thinking that it was odd Otabek asked for permission, even after their climax.

“I like it when you tell me what to do,” said Otabek after some thought. “Especially when you do something like that.”  
Yuri grinned. He was glad that Otabek had enjoyed the experience as well as him.

“You should get cleaned up, though.”

He was eyeing the mess he'd made on Otabek's abdomen. Otabek rolled his head lazily from side to side.

“Can't. Too tired. How are you still standing?”

“You weren't _that_ good.” Yuri teased, grabbing a box of tissues he kept near his bed. He cleaned up Otabek himself as best he could.

“You should take a shower. In fact... maybe we both should...”

He was already thinking about their next sexual encounter, curious to try more of the kinky things he'd been researching to fuel his fantasies. But Otabek sighed and shook his head.

“Not yet. Come here.”

He grabbed Yuri's arm and tugged him back onto the bed. Yuri squirmed in mock protest, but quieted down as Otabek soothed him with gentle kisses. Their naked bodies fit neatly together, arms wrapped in a tender embrace.

“You have to come visit me in Kazakhstan...” Otabek said, his voice thick. Yuri could tell he was starting to drift asleep.

“OK. When?”

“As soon as possible. Right away. Come with me when I go. What are you doing tomorrow?”

Yuri laughed as the thoughts that ran through Otabek's sleepy brain flowed out unencumbered by his usual brevity. Otabek's eyes closed, but there was still the trace of a smile on his lips. Yuri leaned forward and kissed the corner of his mouth.

“OK. I'll come visit you. We have all summer.”

“Practice...” Otabek mumbled. Yuri wasn't certain if he meant skating, or if he meant he wanted to practice more _Kama Sutra_ with Yuri. He privately hoped for both.

Thinking about skating put another thought in his head. He continued to watch Otabek, who was now taking slow, deep breaths. He figured Otabek wasn't awake to hear him, but he asked aloud anyway.

“Beka... do you think we'll have it one day? You know... What Viktor and the other Yuuri have?”

To his surprise, the hand Otabek had resting on his hip ran up his side and came to rest on his cheek, drawing pleasant shivers up Yuri's spine. Otabek opened one sleepy eye and brushed the hair out of Yuri's face before leaning into to kiss him once more.

“Yura... I think we already do.”

 

THE END

 

 

April Fools! =P

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> April Fools! I bet y'all were thinking you'd be reading about the figure skating banquet, but no! Just a lot of porn! Ha ha!
> 
> Also, yes, technically this chapter was supposed to mark the end of this story. However, some people have expressed interest in seeing what these events looked like from Otabek's POV. Is that something y'all are still interested in? If there's enough interest, I wouldn't mind writing more about these two. Maybe even throw in a scene from the banquet, and some extra hentai material as a bonus. ;)
> 
> Well, whether I decide to write more or call it quits, it's been a blast writing this story. Thanks for patiently riding out the first of my smutty fanfiction! I'd love to hear your thoughts on how I can improve my writing in my next venture. Happy reading, everyone!


	10. Prelude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all asked for it, now here it is! The first chapter of Otabek's POV. From here on the story will loop through the events as they appeared from Otabek's perspective, going through the banquet. There's not much more to say, other than that Otabek's mind is a bit less dirty than Yuri's, so enjoy the fluff while it lasts!

He brought his trembling feet to the edge of the rink. Even with the skates laced tight for support, he felt wobbly, like the slightest movement would shatter his ankles. He wasn't even on the ice, but the threat of falling was very present in his mind. He hesitated at the entrance, hands gripping the railing on either side.

“You can do this,” he said bracingly, “It's just a little ice! Nothing to be afraid of.”

He took a deep breath, pushed himself into the rink, and promptly fell on his face.

“Ha! Did you see that?!” Akerke whooped, tossing her aqua-colored hair over her shoulder. “Serik bites the ice again!”

Not hearing a response, she turned to look at her silent companion. Otabek was on his phone, completely distracted.

“O-ta-bek!” she said loudly, enunciating each syllable for emphasis. The dark-haired boy only grunted in response. “Are you even paying attention?”

“What?”

“You missed it! Serik just had a magnificent wipe-out on the ice!”

“He always does that,” Otabek said carelessly, though he managed to pull his face away from his phone long enough to observe their mutual friend, still sprawled on the ice and failing his limbs helplessly, “You'd better go help him before he hurts himself.”

Akerke eyed him curiously, then with a shrug left to rescue the poor, pathetic man on the ice. Otabek watched them long enough to see Serik safely returned to his feet, but once Akerke began slowly leading him around by his hands, he quietly returned to his phone.

“Now, _that's_ a new expression.”

He had no idea how long he'd been distracted this time, but when he looked up, it was to see Serik leaning toward him over the half-wall. He was trying to appear casual, though Otabek could tell his friend needed to rest on something to maintain his balance. He and Akerke were watching him now, both with impish grins on their faces. Otabek carefully rearranged his features into a mask of indifference before asking, “What expression?”

“You can't fool us!” Akerke said. Being more confident in skates than Serik, she was able to point an accusatory finger across the barrier into Otabek's face, “Who are you texting? We want details!”

“I'm not texting anyone,” Otabek replied truthfully.

“Then what's with that grin?”

“I was just scrolling through Instagram...”

“What?!” Serik shouted, nearly tumbling to ground again. “But you _hate_ social media!”

Otabek felt that his reaction was a bit over-dramatic, but he didn't say as much. “I never said I _hated_ it...”

“Um, I'm sorry, but yes you did,” Akerke interjected, “Something about being too impersonal and being more about followers than friends?”

“No, no,” corrected Serik, “I believe it was his inability to decipher a person's meaning from text alone.”

“Sarcasm tripping him up again?” Akerke speculated, a finger tapping her chin.

Otabek relented. “OK. You both win. I _did_ hate it. But it's not as bad as I thought.”

“So why the sudden change of heart?” Akerke asked, though Serik was muttering under his breath, “ _I already know the answer..._ ”

“Well, Yuri has an account so...”

“Ah ha! I knew it!” Serik crowed before Otabek had time to finish his statement. This time he really did fall to the ice. Otabek hoped he hurt his tailbone, then immediately felt guilty. To restore his Karma, put his phone down, removed his skate guards, and entered the rink himself. With Akerke's help, he soon had Serik on his feet again.

“Yuri... Always Yuri...” he was saying, “What is it with you and this kid?”

“I like him,” Otabek said simply. Akerke made a sort of strangled squealing sound, so he added, “As as friend.”

Akerke uttered a disappointed groan. Otabek thought it was best to ignore her.

“Are you still texting him every day?” Serik asked.

“Since Barcelona.”

“What could you possibly have to talk about _every single day_?”

“Skating mostly. He just took first place at the Russian Nationals and he's looking good for the European Championship. I'm a little worried about Viktor Nikiforov, though. He's on the Russian team as well, but I really think he's Yuri's biggest competition right now. I think if he were to work on music interpretation rather than his technical score...”

“Beck, Beck! Slow your roll, dude!” Serik pleaded, lifting his hands as if to defend himself from the onslaught of Otabek's sudden monologue.

“I'm sorry. Was I talking to much?” Otabek asked with a tone of surprise. No one had ever asked him to speak _less_ before.

“It's fine... I mean, it's not like you're usually a chatterbox,” Serik said, mirroring Otabek's own thoughts.

“Maybe it would be better to focus a little less on Yuri Plisetsky, and a little more on our own Otabek Altin?” suggested Akerke. “How about a little demonstration?”

“Yeah, why don't you show us how it's done?” added Serik.

Otabek shrugged. “Well... Since I'm already on the ice...”

The community rink was open to the public today, though most visitors congregated near the edge, traveling in a slow-moving circle. Otabek effortlessly weaved his way through them toward center ice, which was nearly empty but for a few of the bolder skaters. They quickly cleared a space for him. Apparently they recognized the Hero of Kazakhstan.

The music being pumped through the arena's speakers was a generic pop song that Otabek didn't recognize. Still, it had a fast beat he could move to, and he used it to freestyle for a spell. He disliked doing anything too flashy in the public eye, so he limited himself to a few spins and step sequences. The physical activity would be a good warm-up to his real practice later that afternoon.

When the thought he'd made enough of a spectacle of himself to satisfy his friends, he returned to the edge of the rink, waving to the skaters who applauded his brief performance as he went. Akerke was among the fans who clapped for him, though Serik was looking at him with a sullen expression.

“I just don't get it,” he said as Otabek left the rink and began unlacing his skates. “With your athleticism, you could have played any sport you wanted. And you picked _figure skating_...?”

“Skating calms me down.” Otabek said by way of explanation.

“Right. And we all know how wild and spastic you are usually.”

Akerke came to Otabek's defense, “He's being serious, Serik. You've only known him for a couple of years, but we went to grade school together. Trust me when I say that Beck wasn't always the master of Zen you see before you now.”

“I'm not Buddhist,” said Otabek.

Serik glanced at Otabek's serious expression and turned his skeptical eye to Akerke, “Yeah, I'm not buying it.”

“It's true! Like this one time, when these kids were bullying me...”

He figured if they were going to start gossiping about his past, then it should be safe for him to check his phone again. It came as no surprise that he had a message from Yuri.

**Hey. You busy?**

Otabek glanced at his two friends. Akerke was busy pantomiming some alleged altercation between Otabek and the bullies she had probably invented for Serik's amusement. He returned his attention to his phone and responded.

**Nope. What's up?**

Since he'd received the text while he'd been on he ice, he wasn't sure if Yuri was still near his phone. But it would be fine either way. With their different training schedules, a single conversation sometimes spread over an entire day, one message at a time. But he wouldn't have to wait. Yuri sent the next message right away.

**I leave for Euro Championship tomorrow.**

He was in the process of typing a message to let Yuri know he was looking forward to his performance, when a second message came in.

**Yakov's making me share a room with Viktor.**

Otabek quickly deleted his draft and typed out a question instead.

**What about Katsuki?**

**The Pig isn't coming with.**

**Marital troubles?** asked Otabek.

**They AREN'T married!**

**They act married.**

**Don't remind me.**

Otabek might have laughed, had not his friends been standing nearby. He didn't want to draw their attention.

 **I'm sorry I can't be there to see you in person,** he typed. Then, struck by sudden inspiration, he sent, **Let's share a room at Worlds.**

Yuri's next response was so delayed, Otabek thought he might have had to leave for practice. But finally the text came in.

**First you have to get to Worlds, stupid! Don't be so cocky!**

Otabek couldn't keep the grin from his face.

**Same to you.**

Akerke's voice brought his attention away from his phone, “What are you humming?”

Otabek lifted his head, careful smooth the smile from his lips to avoid another bought of teasing, “I was humming?”

“Yes, you were. I liked it. Is it something new you're working on?”

“Not really,” Otabek said, realizing that he had been thinking of a song while texting Yuri. He just hadn't realized he'd been humming the tune aloud. “It's just... something I've been playing around with.”

Akerke shrugged it off, and Otabek said no more about it, but the song continued to play in his head as he gathered up his things and followed his friends out of the ice rink.

 


	11. Adagio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Sorry for the delay between updates. I have a new job that keeps me busy, and today's the first day I've had off in two weeks! Hopefully, the quality of my writing hasn't suffered as a result! Enjoy!

Otabek woke to the sound of his phone. He'd programmed it to roar like a lion whenever Yuri sent him a text. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but when he woke with a jolt having dreamed that a massive blond lion was about to tear him to shreds, he began having second thoughts.

Groggily, he rolled his head to the side and stared at his phone. Lying face-up on the nightstand, it was the only source of light in the pitch black room. He grabbed it and checked the time on the screen. It was one thirty in the morning.

“Yuriii...” he groaned, speaking aloud as if the boy were present to hear him, “The time difference...”

Yuri was in Ostrava for the European Championship. Perhaps he hadn't realized that his current time was a full four hours behind that of Kazakhstan.

Otabek considered going back to sleep. He could always text Yuri in the morning. But curiosity won out, and he checked Yuri's message in spite of his exhaustion.

**You'll never guess what that bastard has done this time.**

Otabek stared at the message in confusion. Had he and Yuri been in the middle of a conversation? He sleepy mind tried to remember any names of people Yuri couldn't stand.

**JJ?** he asked, certain that he'd heard Yuri complain about him before.

**No. Not JJ. I mean VN. He kicked me out of our room.**

**Why?**

**So he can have sex with his Pork Cutlet Bowl.**

Otabek had to read this message through several times, thinking he hadn't seen it correctly. What the hell was a pork cutlet bowl, and why would Viktor Nikiforov want to have sex with it? Perhaps it was a typo, or one of those auto-correct mistakes. He was too tired to sort it out now.

**I saw your performance online,** he typed, hoping to steer the conversation back to a subject he could understand.

**And?**

**You were good.**

**Thank you.**

With a smirk, Otabek quickly added, **VN was better.**

Yuri struck back instantly, his response accompanied by an appropriately angry roar.

**Are you trying to pick a fight with me?**

Otabek chuckled. He'd would keep the text alert noise. It fit Yuri's personality so well. But Otabek hadn't merely been teasing him. Viktor Nikiforov's performance in the short program had been spectacular, and the judges agreed. If Yuri didn't do something to improve his own routine, he'd be outstripped by the senior skater.

Otabek let his phone drop to his side, trying to think about what he could say that would encourage Yuri, not make him angry. But his brain still felt too foggy to generate anything inspirational.

He tried **I don't want you to give up.**

Then added, **You can do better than him.**

Reading through these first two messages, he smiled softly and sent a third.

**I want you to be on your best game when I destroy you at worlds.**

A little friendly competition always motivated him. Maybe it would motivate Yuri, too.

A minute passed without a response from Yuri. Otabek started to wonder if he'd angered Yuri in spite of his intentions when his phone roared to life in his hands, nearly causing him to drop it.

**Have you noticed that all we ever talk about is skating?**

Yuri wanted to talk about something else? Well, since he was already awake, he figured it was fine. Settling into his pillows, Otabek asked Yuri about his grandfather. He knew they were close, and that Yuri would be pleased for the excuse to talk more about him.

He wasn't aware how much time had passed while they texted back and forth, but he was starting to worry. Yuri had his free skate for the European Championship the next morning. Shouldn't he be resting? Surely Vikor was done doing... Whatever it was Yuri said he was doing. Otabek suggested this idea to Yuri, along with a gentle suggestion that he go to bed. He waited a minute, but no response from his Russian friend. He tried another message.

**Yuri? Are you still there?**

Again, no response. Otabek figured he had either fallen asleep, or his phone died. Either way, it looked like this evening's conversation was over.

**Goodnight Yura,** he sent.

He switched his own phone to silent and rolled to his side to return it to the nightstand. He froze, his hand still resting on his phone as he stared at the strip of yellow light peeking around the edge of his curtains.

“Is that the sun?!” He asked aloud, appalled to realize it was already morning. Had he really texted with Yuri all night?!

He groaned, flipping to his stomach and stubbornly burying his face in his pillow. He didn't want to get up. He wanted to go back to sleep. But he had practice that day, and he knew his coach would be waiting. Still, he was tempted to take the day off.

Then he remembered Yuri, who had stayed up late the day before a major competition just to chat with him. In the end, only the knowledge that he needed more practice to face off with Yuri at Worlds dragged him from the comfort of his bed.

* * *

After practice, Otabek was mentally and physically drained. He hadn't wanted his coach to scold him for staying up all night on the phone with his biggest competition, so he'd devoted his usual amount of energy to practice to avoid raising suspicions.

If it had been any other day, he could have gone straight to bed for a well-earned nap. But today Yuri would be skating his free program at the European Championship. Otabek didn't want to miss it for any reason.

He switched his phone to silent to prevent any interruptions, ignoring a text from his friends. Next, he grabbed his laptop and pulled up the website he'd bookmarked earlier for watching a live-stream of the competition.

Technical difficulties prevented him from getting the stream up as quickly as he liked, and he was nearly disappointed, thinking he would miss Yuri's routine entirely. But he was in luck. The feed finished buffering as Viktor was finishing his routine.

Otabek watched the last minute with a frown. Viktor was good. Really good. Although Otabek liked to tease Yuri about the senior skater, he had concerns. He knew that Yuri looked up to Viktor, no matter how many times Yuri denied it. He hoped that following Viktor's flawless performance wouldn't have a negative impact on his friend.

Was it his imagination, or did Yuri appear depressed as he took his place on the ice? Otabek tapped the side of his computer anxiously, hoping his prediction had been wrong. Surely Yuri was simply focused on his upcoming routine. He usually looked serious when he was about to start this program.

The song started, and Yuri started late. To a casual observer, it might not have seemed like a significant mistake, but Otabek cursed under his breath. Following a routine like Viktor's, Yuri would be striving for perfection. A late start could be devastating.

Yuri seemed to have recovered. He moved into the spin without any difficulty, and seemed to have caught up to the music. Otabek continued to tap the edge of his computer in time with the beat, as if doing so would somehow help keep Yuri on tempo as well.

He knew Yuri would fall the second he saw him take the jump. He couldn't explain in words how he knew, but his experience as a professional skater taught him to recognize a bad approach, and he cried out in sympathetic anguish even before Yuri hit the ice.

“Shake it off, Yura!” he commanded the image on his screen, clapping along with the audience as Yuri pushed himself to his feet and resumed the program.

But Yuri couldn't seem to find his stride again after the fall. He made another mistake halfway through the program, and nearly fell on the second jump. Otabek found himself counting the deductions to his score that were sure to follow with a feeling of mounting dread. Yuri could forget about beating Viktor in this round. He'd be lucky to even place on the podium.

Yuri managed to complete his routine without any more major mistakes. Otabek finally released the breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding. He'd never seen Yuri skate like that before. It reminded Otabek very strongly of himself when he was just starting out as a junior.

Otabek watched helplessly as Yuri made his way to the Kiss and Cry with Coach Yakov. He found himself hating that he was stuck in his room, thousands of miles away. He knew what it was like to feel defeated, and he was sure Yuri was suffering. Unlike Otabek, Yuri wasn't used to failure. He wouldn't know how to handle this on his own...

The score was dismally low. Otabek's estimate was within a few points of the actual judges' score. He had placed last for his free skate, and fourth overall for the competition.

As the live feed cut away from Yuri's small, forlorn figure to show the commentator's discussion, Otabek closed his computer and began pacing his room. His nervous hands grasped at one of the teddy bears he'd tossed carelessly on his desk. He began to toss it in the air as he walked, if only to give him something to do.

He couldn't get his mind off Yuri. He knew that everyone was susceptible to nerves. Even Jean-Jacque Leroy choked at the Grand Prix. But somehow Otabek always thought Yuri was immune to that sort of thing. He'd always assumed that the soldier he'd seen in Yakov's training camp would pull through every obstacle on guts alone. It's what drew him to Yuri in the first place.

Something must have happened. Something got inside his head and made him fail.

A terrible thought suddenly crossed Otabek's mind. Could it be _his_ fault? Hadn't he spent the whole night texting Yuri? The Russian skater couldn't have had much sleep, and right before competition... Otabek felt overcome with guilt. He was older. He should have been more responsible and told Yuri to go to bed.

He had to know for sure. If it was truly his fault, then he needed to accept responsibility and do whatever Yuri required to make it up to him. He grabbed his phone and paused his pacing long enough to gather his thoughts. What should he say?

**What happened?** he sent, getting right to the point. Then his pacing began anew. He would wait for Yuri's explanation. Perhaps it wasn't Otabek's fault at all. But until he knew for sure, he wouldn't be able to shake the feeling of guilt seeping into his brain.

Yuri hadn't texted him back. Otabek reminded himself that Yuri had just finished the competition. They must be handing out the medals now... Yuri must be upset...

_Give him time..._ Otabek cautioned himself. Yuri would need that much before he'd share anything with Otabek. So he would would wait. Yuri would respond to him eventually. He just had to be patient...

Anxious, he checked his phone once more, telling himself it was just to make sure the sound was turned on. It was, and there were no messages.

_Wait, just wait_... he told himself. _You can always try again tomorrow..._

 


	12. Crescendo

A week after the European Championship, Otabek opened the door of his home to find Akerke and Serik on the front step. Akerke lowered the hand she had raised to knock and gave Otabek a friendly smile.

“Hey, Beck! Going out?”

Otabek nodded as he finished tugging on his jacket, watching his friends with curiosity. Usually they'd send him a text before coming over. Dropping by unannounced couldn't be a good sign. He sensed trouble.

“Where are you headed?” Akerke asked, attempting to sound casual. She made no move to get out of Otabek's way. Between her and Serik, Otabek's path was barred.

Otabek braced himself for whatever was coming next.

“I'm going to the animal shelter.”

He watched as Akerke and Serik exchanged nervous glances. Serik asked the next question.

“Why are you going to the animal shelter?”

“I'm going to adopt a cat.”

“Alright, this has gone far enough!” Akerke declared. She grabbed Otabek by the shoulders and pushed him backwards away from the door. Serik hesitated a fraction of a second, then he too moved inside, shutting the door behind him.

Otabek struggled against Akerke's grip. She was one of the few people he knew who was shorter than him, and he could have fought her off easily. But she was his friend, and he didn't want to accidentally hurt her, so he allowed himself to be walked to the couch. Only when he was seated and showed no signs of bolting for the door did Akerke release him. Otabek looked up at her sullenly. She and Serik towered over him, arms crossed as they stood shoulder to shoulder.

“This is an intervention!” stated Akerke with authority.

“We're worried about you, Otabek.” Serik added.

“I had no idea you guys hated cats so much,” Otabek said with an ironic twist of his mouth.

Akerke rolled her eyes. “This isn't about you adopting a cat.”

“Then what is it about?”

“You know the answer to that.”

Otabek lowered his gaze and stared instead at his feet. He shuffled his boots back and forth across the carpet. “Yeah... I know...”

“He still hasn't texted you?” Akerke asked. He didn't need to see her face to hear the sympathy in her voice.

Otabek shook his head. “Not since before the competition... I don't know what else to do... I've tried messaging him, calling him... I've even sent him some cat videos I found online... Nothing works...”

“And you think adopting a stray cat is going to help?” Serik asked dryly. He was clearly less concerned about Otabek's sensibilities than Akerke.

“If I get a cat and sent a photo of him to Yuri, then he'll have no choice but to respond. He loves cats. He'd probably want to come visit if I got one...”

“Beck, that's crazy. Besides, if Yuri really is ignoring you...”

Otabek looked up from his shoes, giving Akerke a warning look.

“What?” he said darkly, daring Akerke to finish her thought.

Akerke cringed and looked to Serik for assistance. Otabek watched him push his glasses further up his long nose, clearly stalling for time.

“Otabek... You have to consider the possibility that he's blocked your number.”

“Yuri would never do that!”

“Are you sure? He hasn't responded to any of your messages in days. Did you do something to make him angry?”

Otabek's guilt over keeping Yuri awake before a major competition still weighed heavy on him. It had been growing over the past week as Yuri maintained his silence. Otabek hadn't had a chance to talk with him about what had happened before the free skate, and he wasn't sure what else he might have done to upset his friend. Otabek bowed his head again, lost in thought as he tried to figure out another way to fix whatever had gone wrong between himself and Yuri.

“Beck, you can't keep this up,” Akerke continued, trying for another approach, “You haven't been sleeping. You barely eat. You keep checking your phone every five minutes... See!”

She pointed an accusing finger at Otabek, who in fact had just pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket to check his messages. Before he could even check the time, she had snatched it from his hands.

“Hey!” Otabek protested, jumping to his feet as Akerke danced out of his reach. Serik stood in front of him, using his body to block Otabek from pursuing his short friend. “Give it back, Akerke! That's not funny!”

“You're too attached to this thing! And it's starting to affect your performances too!”

“What do you know about my performances?”

“Serik and I sneaked in to watch you.”

“You've been spying on me?”

“We did say we were worried about you,” Serik reminded him. “Your coach doesn't seem like the type to yell at you so much. He's noticed a difference too, hasn't he?”

Otabek glared at him, but before he had time to give him a cutting remark, his phone chimed in Akerke's hands.

“Give it back!” he pleaded, his arms reaching futilely around Serik toward Akerke. “It could be Yuri!”

“It's not his alert,” Akerke pointed out.

“He could have broken his phone! He broke it and had to replace it so now he has a new number and that's why he hasn't been responding to my messages! Now hand it over!”

Akerke looked down at the screen and shook her head. She handed the phone back to the panicked Otabek without a word. He looked down to find that the incoming message was simply from his mother, asking him if he wanted anything from the store.

Seeing the look of disappointment on his face, Akerke delivered her final blow gently.

“Beck, you can't keep this up. Yuri will come around when he's ready. For now, you have to worry about yourself.”

* * *

Otabek remembered this conversation while he waited before the Four Continents Championship. He wasn't happy, but no one at this competition knew him well enough to differentiate between his default expression and a depressed one.

 _Yuri would know the difference,_ he thought with uncharacteristic bitterness. But it was useless to think about Yuri now. The days had turned to weeks without so much as an emoji from the Russian skater, and Otabek had finally been forced to face the truth in Akerke's words. He had to perform well here. Advancing in this competition meant he could face Yuri in person at Worlds. But at the same time, he'd never been less excited before a match.

Jean-Jacques Leroy was talking to him for some unknown reason. Otabek hadn't been paying attention, so he wasn't sure what their conversation was about. Fortunately, JJ seemed perfectly comfortable with doing all the talking, leaving Otabek to make a few non-committal grunts as he stared blankly into middle-space. If he tried, maybe he could interest himself in what JJ had to say, if only for a distraction. But thinking about JJ made him remember all the times Yuri entertained him with anecdotes ridiculing the Canadian skater, and he became depressed all over again.

“Oh look, it's Otabek Altin!”

Otabek's eye was immediately drawn toward the person who shouted his name. He spotted Viktor Nikiforov grinning in his direction. Yuuri Katsuki, the man Otabek considered his primary competition at Four Continents, was standing by his side. And standing next to Katsuki, his body slightly hidden behind Nikiforov, was a thin, blond figure...

_Yura._

Otabek's immediate reaction was one of shock. He hadn't expected Yuri to show up at Four Continents. He could barely prevent himself from shouting a greeting. But he checked his impulse at the last minute. Something was wrong. Nikiforov had just shouted his name, but Yuri stared pointedly in the opposite direction. He had to have known Otabek would be here, so why hadn't he come to greet him?

At that moment, Yuri finally turned his head in response to something Nikiforov said to him. He made eye contact with Otabek, but turned away quickly, acting as if he hadn't noticed his friend.

Otabek felt something snap within him.

_That... Little... Shit..._

JJ took a step in front of him, still blathering away. He hadn't noticed any change come over Otabek, until the Kazakh skater pushed him out of the way. He was blocking Otabek's view of Yuri. Ignoring JJ in his intense scrutiny of the blond, Otabek slowly began making his way toward him.

Yuri turned his head. Their eyes met, and this time there could be no mistake that he noticed the Kazakh stalking toward him. Otabek saw Yuri's face pale, then he turned on his heel and ran away.

Otabek was momentarily stunned. Recovering quickly, he sprinted after Yuri, determined not to let the Russian escape. He couldn't comprehend why Yuri was running from him, but he was furious that after weeks with no contact, he refused to face Otabek now.

He chased Yuri through the halls until the blond ducked into a stairwell. Otabek had gained on him quickly, fueled by his fury. He seized his opportunity to finally capture the younger boy, pinning him against the wall by his shoulders.

They were both fighting to regain their breath. Otabek managed to compose himself enough to hiss the first words.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

Yuri's green eyes were wide with fear. He was covered with sweat from running, and Otabek could feel the boy's shoulders trembling beneath his hands. If he wasn't feeling so angry and frustrated, he might have felt pity for him. Instead, he wanted answers, and he wasn't going to be swayed by Yuri's emerald stare.

That is, until Yuri kicked him.

“Ow!” Otabek said, more out of reflex than real pain. The shock he felt was enough for him to release his hold on Yuri as he moved to cover his shin, as if protecting it from further harm.

“I'm sorry!” Yuri cried. Even in his confused state, Otabek was aware it was the first thing Yuri had said to him in weeks.

“ _Ow._ ” Otabek repeated as his shock faded and he became conscious of the throbbing pain in his leg. He rubbed the place where Yuri kicked him and looked up at his friend disapprovingly.

“I'm so, so sorry!” Yuri wailed again. “I'm sorry, Beka! I didn't mean to hurt you! But you freaked me out! I actually came all this way to see you. I really, really wanted to talk to you, but I ran away and now I've kicked you and you're about to compete and I've probably broken your leg and now you'll never go to Worlds and you'll probably never be able to skate again and it's all my fault!”

Any anger Otabek had felt toward him dissipated as he watched tears begin to well in Yuri's eyes. Instead, he felt guilty once again. He'd lost his temper and shown his ugly side to a dear friend. Yuri had every right to kick him. In fact, he considered offering to let Yuri kick him in the other leg.

Instead, he placed his hands back on Yuri's shoulders, careful to be gentle this time.

“No, Yuri. It's my fault. I shouldn't have scared you. My leg is fine. Please don't cry.”

“I'm not crying,” Yuri argued, though Otabek could clearly see his shining eyes and hear the thick sound of his voice.

Otabek couldn't help but smile as he asked, “Did you really come to Korea just to see me?”

“Yes,” Yuri muttered.

“Then why did you run from me?”

“Because you were chasing me.”

Otabek bit back a bitter laugh. So it was his fault once again! And yet his feelings of guilt were beginning to fade as quickly as his anger. It was hard to feel anything but happiness. There might be stinging pain in his shin, but at least he and Yuri were talking again. And he was seeing him in person for the first time in months...

The sudden thought had him assessing little changes in Yuri's appearance he hadn't had the opportunity to appreciate before. He gave Yuri's shoulders a light squeeze, noticing that Yuri appeared broader across the chest than he had during their last encounter.

“You've gotten taller,” Otabek said, cataloging his observations out loud, “And look, your hair's gotten longer, too.”

He lifted a hand to brush away the lock of hair that was always falling over Yuri's eye, tucking it behind his ear. It occurred to him that if Yuri kept growing, he would easily become taller than Otabek in less than a year... He tried to imagine an older, more mature Yuri, and was touched by a strange emotion it was difficult to define. He wanted to explore this new sensation further, but before he could share his thoughts with Yuri, a voice came over the PA system.

Otabek cocked his head to listen to the message. It announced the start of warm-ups for the first men's group. He needed to report to the ice.

“That's me,” he said as he turned reluctantly away from Yuri. “We'll continue this conversation after.”

It was odd to think that only a few minutes ago, he'd been dreading entering the rink. Now, he couldn't have been more excited. Skating had always been the most effective way to calm himself when he was upset, and though he was no longer angry, he was far from relaxed. He continued to ponder the curious emotion that touched him before, and wondered at the difference a short talk with Yuri could have on his mood. He still had questions for his young friend, but for the moment they could wait. Nothing was going to mar the happiness he felt, not even the slight twinge of pain still coursing through his leg.

Yuri was here. He would be in the stands that very moment, watching Otabek compete.

 _Watch this, Yura,_ he thought has he glided smoothly to center ice, _I'll show you what you've been missing..._

 


	13. Minuet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! This update was a long time in the making. Sorry about that! I hope to get the next update to you fairly quickly, as I've already got most of the dialogue written out! For now, enjoy this chapter.

Was he staring? He hoped not. He didn't want to scare Yuri again. But Otabek couldn't stop himself from sneaking glances at the blond seated by his side. After being apart since December, when their friendship began, it was surreal having Yuri with him again in Korea. To think that Yuri Plisetsky was sitting next to him, sharing dinner with the other skaters competing at the Four Continents Championship, was nothing short of miraculous.

_To hell with it_ , he decided, and he began unabashedly indulging in the play of emotions across Yuri's face as he argued with Vikor Nikiforov. On occasion, Yuri would turn his face toward Otabek. Their eyes would meet, and Otabek would smile. Then Yuri would turn away with a scowl and deliver a cutting remark to Yuuri Katsuki, who couldn't seem to stop grinning. Otabek thought that they seemed to get along well.

“Would you shut up already?” Yuri was saying in response to something Nikiforov said, “It's not like the Piggy broke any records. Otabek is only a few points behind.”

Hearing his name, Otabek snapped to attention. He'd been so preoccupied observing Yuri that he'd been mostly silent throughout their conversation. Now that he saw an opportunity to tease his friend, he lightly commented, “I would have done better if _someone_ hadn't kicked me in the shin right before my performance.”

This innocent jab might have been too harsh, as Yuri turned toward him with a startled expression.

“I said I was _sorry_!” he protested, sounding genuinely upset. Otabek suppressed a smile. After what Yuri had put him through these past few weeks, he deserved a little torment.

Yuuri Katsuki was also suitably appalled.

“You kicked him?” he asked the repentant Russian. Yuri glowered in response.

Seeing the dark expression on his face, Otabek could no longer hold back his amusement. Chuckling, he diffused the tension by explaining that he held no real resentment toward Yuri. He then complimented Katsuki's performance, intentionally prompting another outburst of praise from Nikiforov. The matter of Otabek's injured leg was swiftly forgotten as Nikiforov wrapped his arms around Katsuki's shoulders while Yuri made retching noises.

Later, when the party seemed on the verge of breaking up after dinner, it was Nikiforov who suggested the skaters retire to Seung-gil Lee's place for a celebratory after-party. Otabek thought a celebration was a little premature, considering they had only finished their short programs that day. But he sympathized with Viktor's desire to keep going. He wasn't ready for the night to end, either.

The group of figure skaters was already marching down the street, ignoring Lee's protests and tugging along a reluctant Katsuki. Yuri looked as if he was prepared to follow, but Otabek was suddenly struck with an idea. Almost on reflex, he reached out for Yuri and tugged on the hem of his jacket.

Yuri turned, looking at him with an openly curious expression.

“Let's sneak away,” said Otabek.

The next thing he knew, he was running down the streets of Gangneung with Yuri. No one had noticed them leave, and they certainly weren't being chased, but they ran until they were panting from the exertion, laughing between gasps for no reason other than the absurdity of their escape.

They continued their exploration at a slower pace, walking side by side. Conversation dropped off, but Otabek was content just knowing Yuri was there. He checked an impulse to grab the blond's hand as they wandered, surprised by his own inclination.

Before he had time to give it any thought, Yuri suddenly asked, “Where are we going?”

Crap. He hadn't thought that far ahead. He had simply acted on impulse. He had to think of something quick, lest he disappoint his friend.

“Ice cream?” he blurted, suggesting the first thing that came into his head.

“It's February,” Yuri reminded him.

“Too cold? It's too cold....”

_Stupid..._ he added to silently to himself. _Who suggests ice cream in February?_

“Then how about coffee?” he said next, thinking something hot to drink might be nice instead.

Yuri didn't seem impressed. “Isn't it kind of late for coffee? You have to compete tomorrow.”

“Right... Then how about a drink?” he asked, realizing only afterwards that he had no idea what the legal drinking age in Korea was.

It didn't matter either way, as Yuri's next words were, “I'm fifteen.”

He was _definitely_ too young to drink.

“Oh...” said Otabek, “I forgot...”

For some reason, it was easy for him to forget that Yuri was three years his junior. Perhaps it was because he thought they were so similar, or because he'd admired Yuri as a professional skater for so long. The sudden reminder about Yuri's age puzzled him. He found it disquieting, and he couldn't figure out why.

Yuri was still waiting for him to come up with a plan. Otabek suggested further exploration, and they began making their way toward the coast. He still felt troubled by the direction their conversation had taken, and was relieved when Yuri brought up the topic of skating. They reviewed the performances of Otabek's competition, making predictions about how tomorrow would go and whether Katsuki would be dead drunk after the party at Lee's place. When they finally exhausted the topic, Otabek's mind was once again at ease, and they fell back into a companionable silence.

Otabek unconsciously directed them onto a pier. They strolled away from the shoreline, stopping only once they reached end of the boardwalk. Yuri leaned against the railing, staring out over the black water. Otabek mirrored his pose, resting his elbows on the wooden rail. Unlike Yuri, he stared not at the water, but at the expression on Yuri's face. There was one nagging question still on his mind.

“So...” he said, unsure of how to begin. It seemed easiest to take the direct route, so he asked, “Are you going to tell me why you've been ignoring me?”

He watched Yuri's face color in the lights reflected from the city. He turned away, unable to meet Otabek's eye as he muttered, “I was humiliated. After the European Championship... It was embarrassing. I couldn't bring myself to talk about it with anyone. I know it sounds stupid, and I'm sorry. But that's how it was.”

He was hiding something. Otabek could tell from the way he stared fixedly over the water, avoiding eye contact. His explanation was plausible, but there was something about the delivery that sounded rehearsed. Otabek was relieved that they were talking again, but the knowledge that Yuri wasn't telling him the whole truth left him feeling oddly frustrated.

But he wasn't going to push him. Yuri would share whatever he needed to say when he was ready. For now, Otabek could only show that he'd support him, no matter what. When Yuri finally glanced his way, Otabek gave him a solemn nod, sealing his intent to be patient a bit longer.

“I understand,” Otabek said, choosing his words carefully, “But if there's a next time, please just talk to me. I know what it's like to fail at something, remember?”

“You mean ballet?” Yuri asked, “I wanted to ask... Is it true that you stopped studying it?”

Otabek pictured the first time he'd seen Yuri. It had been several years ago, when he'd participated in Coach Yakov's summer training camp. He'd quit ballet out of frustration, realizing he'd never be as good as the younger Russian skaters. Even so, he had to commend Yuri Plisetsky, who approached the ballet classes with a solemnity rarely seen in so young a person. Even now, Otabek still felt that same sense of admiration in Yuri's presence.

He didn't share all of this with Yuri, of course. He simply said, “I gave it up when I saw how good you were. It made me realize that I sucked.”

He'd meant to pay him a compliment, but Yuri frowned.

“I thought all figure skaters studied ballet,” he said, “Me, Viktor... Even the Pig... How else are you supposed to skate?”

“There are other forms of dance you can use in figure skating, Yura.”

“Like what you did today?” Yuri asked, referring to the Kazakh-inspired performance Otabek performed for his short program.

“Sure, but there's other things too.”  
“Example?” Yuri asked, his interest piqued.

An idea occurred to Otabek, but would he dare? He would be risking the wrath of the short-tempered Russian, but then again, an angry Yuri was also a very cute Yuri. Otabek decided it was worth the gamble. He closed the distance between them, taking one of the Russian's hands in his own while the other slipped to the small of his back.

“W-What are you doing?” Yuri gasped, face turning crimson again.

“Waltz position,” Otabek said, careful to keep his expression neutral. He was thoroughly enjoying Yuri's panic. He still felt a little resentful about Yuri ignoring his texts. This was payback. “It's a style of dance a lot of pairs skaters use. I've learned it too, but it's hard to demonstrate by myself.”

He tried to guide Yuri into the first steps of the dance, but Yuri remained resolutely in place.

“Yura... You have to let me lead.”

“Fuck that, I'm not a girl.”

“I can see that,” said Otabek. He did not add that he could clearly feel the difference, as well. Yuri's body was small, but lean and muscular. He wasn't soft the way Otabek expected a girl's body to be.

He reminded Yuri that he was the one who knew how to waltz, and insisted on leading the dance. Yuri was finally ready to comply, though he complained about the lack of music.

That was easily fixed. The melody was always in his mind, playing softly whenever he thought of his young friend. Otabek began to hum. He'd spent many nights humming quietly to himself, usually before bed, altering the key and adding to the piece until he had a song fit for the Russian solider. It was vastly different from the simple strain he'd been toying with when Akerke heard it many weeks before.

“What is that?” Yuri asked, drawing Otabek out of the music, though neither one of them stopped dancing.

He could have told Yuri it was a song about him, but it was still just an idea, not ready to share. Instead, he said, “I don't know. I just made it up.”

“You just made it up?” Yuri repeated, a teasing edge to his voice.

Otabek abruptly ended the dance, drawing his hands away from Yuri's body and stuffing them into the pockets of his coat. He was deflecting another impulse to grab Yuri's hand, and figured he was safer this way. The unfamiliar emotions he was experiencing confused him, but he figured it was residual excitement from the competition and having Yuri here with him.

“I like to write songs...” Otabek began, unsure of how much he could divulge to Yuri as they started walking back toward the shore.

“You write music?” prodded Yuri.

“Well, it's not really writing... There's no words or anything. It's more like composing...”

Otabek didn't know what Yuri would say if he told him he liked to mix music in his free time. He was sure Yuri had the wrong idea of what kind of music he composed as Yuri said, “I didn't know that. That's so cool!”

“It's just a hobby,” said Otabek, pulling up the hood of his jacket as he felt his ears turning red. He didn't want to talk too much about himself, but a part of him wanted to share more with Yuri. They already shared a love of skating. It might be cool to share a love of music as well.

“But someday...” he added, hesitating to see if Yuri was still interested.

“What?” asked Yuri. He was hanging on to every word.

Otabek offered a weak smile, “Someday I'd like to mix an original song and skate to it. Like what Yuuri Katsuki did at the Grand Prix.”

Yuri didn't appear impressed.

“He didn't write that. Some friend of his from school did,” he said flatly.

“But they wrote it for him!” Otabek insisted, “And that's what made his performance so special. The routine and the song were perfectly matched for him.”

Yuri's enthusiasm from a moment ago had dissipated the more they discussed the other Yuuri.

“Not good enough to beat me,” he muttered.

Otabek grinned at his pouting expression, “No... Not good enough to beat you.”

They had reached the hotel. Otabek wasn't eager to let Yuri leave, but he knew he would need his rest before the competition tomorrow, and it was already well past midnight. They parted ways in the elevator, with Otabek riding up to a room on a higher floor.

He was looking forward to seeing Yuri again the next day. He did not expect to receive a phone call from him so soon after they parted. And yet his phone started to ring as he pulled on his sleepwear. He blinked at his phone in surprise, thinking his eyes were playing a trick on him. But sure enough, Yuri's name appeared on the display.

He answered quickly, wondering if Yuri had dialed him by accident.

“Can I come over?” Yuri said, desperation in his voice.

“Of course,” said Otabek immediately, not even considering his response, “But why now?”

“Viktor's eating Katsudon.”

_Katsudon_... where had he heard that before? He couldn't remember.

He tried fishing for more information, but the only thing Yuri would say was “It's very noisy.”

It didn't take long before Yuri was knocking at the door of Otabek's hotel room. He let his friend in, noting that Yuri hadn't even changed out of his street clothes before fleeing his room. Viktor must have been very noisy, indeed.

“I was just getting ready for bed when you called,” Otabek said apologetically. “I hope that's OK?”

“It's fine.” Yuri muttered, slinking past Otabek with his eyes on the floor, “I'm sorry to bother you like this...”

Otabek watched him quizzically. Yuri's behavior was unexpectedly shy. It was odd, after they spent the evening together, for him to suddenly be acting this way. Then again, Otabek never heard Yuri talk about friends back home. Perhaps he wasn't used to sleepovers.

“Um... I forgot to bring my pajamas...” Yuri said, breaking into Otabek's train of thought.

Otabek glanced around his room, trying to think of what he could loan Yuri that wouldn't be too large on the younger boy's smaller frame. He offered Yuri one of his undershirts and a pair of shorts. Yuri made some excuse about needing to use the bathroom so he could change in privacy. Otabek smiled behind his back. Yuri definitely wasn't used to sleepovers.

Otabek busied himself with turning down the covers of the bed on both sides. He was inspecting the dimensions, wondering if the double bed would be wide enough for two people to sleep comfortably. He was just deciding that it should be fine for one night, when the bathroom door opened and Yuri stepped out, looking very self-conscious in Otabek's clothes.

Otabek realized he didn't need to worry about his clothes being too big on Yuri. It was true that his shorts were a little baggy, drooping over Yuri's slender legs, but the shirt was a good fit. It stretched snugly over Yuri's chest and shoulders before hanging down over his flat stomach. He really had grown a lot since Otabek last saw him. It was a good change.

“My room's a single, so there's only one bed. I hope that's OK?”

After a brief argument over where Yuri would sleep, Otabek convinced him that the double-bed would do for two. He slipped into bed first, feeling Yuri cautiously move into place next to him a few seconds later. In the dark, his back turned away from Yuri, he indulged himself in a grin. It was obvious that Yuri was trying hard to avoid touching him. He was half tempted to roll over and lay shoulder-to-shoulder with him, just to fluster his timid friend. But he was already exhausted from the long day. He hadn't realized just how tired he was until his head hit the pillow. And so he fell asleep without harassing Yuri any more that night, though his head was still full of thoughts of the young Russian.

That night, he had a very pleasant dream. It started as they usually did. He was skating, the blades of his skates cutting fine lines across the surface of the smooth ice. He was racing much faster then he ever could in real life, but he didn't have any trouble keeping control. He leapt and spun, never once making a mistake.

But he was cold. The air in the arena was freezing. He could see his breath steam the frigid air. He tried skating to the edge of the rink, thinking in a dreamy way that if he could just get off the ice, he'd be warm again. But try as he might, he couldn't seem to reach the edge. And yet the warmth was there, just out of reach. He stretched his arms out, thinking to capture that heat in his embrace.

To his surprise, it worked. He ensnared the much sought after warmth and pulled it closer to him. He could still feel the cold of the ice rink at his back, but the heat he'd captured rose, quickly melting the ice. Otabek glanced over his shoulder and saw that the ice had become a lake, and the arena itself was melting like wax near a flame. He saw it all so clearly, and yet when he turned to see what he held that could cause such an inferno, and yet leave him unharmed, he wasn't able to see it clearly. If he concentrated, the only thing he could hear was the soft notes of a familiar melody...

The sound of the shower woke him. He tried to hold on to the dream, but the memory was fading fast, as dreams so often do upon waking. He couldn't remember what he'd seen in his dream, but he was left with a feeling of happiness. He rolled over, remembering his surroundings even as he forgot his dream. Yuri was gone, but his side of the bed was still warm. Otabek assumed it was he who had jumped in the shower. He also noticed that most of the blankets were bunched on Yuri's side of the bed.

_Blanket hog,_ he thought with amusement. He was excited for what the day would bring. Rolling out of bed, he began to dress himself for the second day of competition. He didn't notice he was humming again as he went about his morning routine, but he couldn't seem to get the song out of his head.

 


	14. Intermezzo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said I'd get the next chapter out quickly, and I did not lie! Though to be fair, it is a very short chapter. The next chapter promises to be a long one, though. So for now, enjoy!

Yuri was gone. He'd caught a flight back to Russia that morning after explaining to Otabek that he'd been selected to compete at the World Championships. Otabek was happy for him, and even happier that he'd have a chance to compete against his friend again on the World stage. But he'd be lying if he said he wasn't disappointed that Yuri couldn't postpone his training one more day to watch Otabek perform his free program.

He tried not to let these bitter feelings show as he stretched. He'd have been better off if he could forget about Yuri entirely, at least before the performance. But he couldn't seem to get the Russian skater out of his head. It didn't help when Yuri Katsuki approached him with a friendly smile, asking, “Where's Yuri?”

Otabek was vaguely surprised. He knew Katsuki was living in St. Petersburg with his coach these days, so he assumed that both he and Nikiforov knew of Yuri's plans to return home.

“He left this morning,” Otabek replied, “He said he needed to train for Worlds.”

A look of relief passed over Katsuki's face, “He did? Well, that explains it...”

Otabek gave Katsuki a questioning look, so the Japanese skater explained, “Viktor knocked on his door this morning to see if he wanted to get breakfast with us, but he didn't answer. He must have had an early flight.”

“Oh. As to that, he was in my room,” said Otabek.

Katsuki was a man who wore his emotions on his sleeve. Otabek watched with passive amusement as Katsuki gave him a scandalized expression.

“ _What was he doing in your room!?_ ”

“He said Viktor was eating Katsudon and he couldn't sleep,” Otabek said with a shrug. It occurred to him that _Katsudon_ sounded like a Japanese term, so he asked, “Do you know what Katsudon is?”

Katsuki's face paled, then the color abruptly returned, coloring his cheeks a deep crimson. Otabek watched this sudden change with discomfort. For the first time, he realized that “Katsudon” may be an innuendo he wasn't familiar with, though it was apparent that Katsuki understood the reference.

Katsuki seemed unable to speak, and Otabek was suffering pangs of sympathetic embarrassment. He pretended to become fascinated with the lacing of his skates, thinking he'd give Katsuki an opportunity to escape if he so desired.

To his surprise, Katsuki didn't take the opportunity provided. Instead, he found his voice again, and changed the subject entirely.

“Did you know that Yuri's birthday is coming up?” he asked, his voice unnaturally flat.

Despite their many conversations, the subject of birthdays had never been mentioned. Otabek shook his head to show is ignorance, and Katsuki nodded in response.

“He'll turn sixteen March first.”

Otabek pondered this new information. March first was only a couple of weeks away. He felt it would be nice to surprise Yuri on his birthday, and it would give him an opportunity to see him again before Worlds.

“Would it be alright if I came to visit him in St. Petersburg?” Otabek asked. He considered Katsuki and Viktor to be something like Yuri's skating guardians. It seemed necessary to ask for Katsuki's permission.

Although Katsuki shook his head, his next words weren't a denial, “He won't be in St. Petersburg. He's going to visit his grandfather in Moscow on his birthday.”

Telling Otabek this information seemed an implicit approval of his plan. He asked Katsuki if it would be possible to figure out when Yuri's train would be arriving in Moscow. Katsuki assured him it could be done, all he had to do was question Coach Yakov. Otabek exchanged contact information with the Japanese skater, and thanked him for the assistance. Katsuki waved away his thanks, stating that he was only happy to help any plan that might please “Yurio.”

Otabek was too busy pondering gift ideas to notice the mischievous glint in Katsuki's eye. He knew he couldn't unexpectedly show up in Moscow empty-handed. If he wanted to surprise Yuri, he'd have to think of a suitable gift. He asked Katsuki if he and Viktor were planning on getting anything for Yuri, hoping for ideas and yet worried that they might all end up getting him the same thing, like a ThunderCats action figure.

Katsuki laughed, waving away Otabek's concerns, “Oh you don't have to worry about that. I've already got the perfect gift in mind...”

* * *

“You are a crazy person.”

Otabek crouched next to his bike, performing a few last-minute tune-ups, but he paused long enough to give Serik a crooked smile.

Serik returned the look with one of disapproval. He waved his phone in front of Otabek's face. A road map was clearly visible on the screen.

“Fifty-three hours, Beck! That's almost three days!” he exclaimed, “And you'll be riding _this_?”

He swept his arm out to indicate the motorcycle. Otabek frowned at his tone, which seemed to indicate a lack of faith in his prized bike. Otabek was almost insulted.

“She's in great shape,” he argued, referring to the bike, “I know she'll get me there.”

“What about sleep? What about food? We're talking a three, maybe four day drive if you make hardly any stops. And for what? So you can deliver a CD to a teenage boy?”

Otabek instinctively patted the breast pocket of his coat, as if reassuring himself that the CD in question was still safely stowed inside. He didn't like that Serik saw the quick gesture. He never should have told his friends about the song in the first place. He knew they would make fun of him.

“It's for his birthday, Ser,” Otabek said, unable to resist defending his actions. “What's wrong with going to visit a friend on his birthday?”

“Nothing, if you're a normal person. But why can't you take a plane? Driving all that way... and on a motorcycle! Beck, think about what you're doing.”

“I have thought about it,” Otabek replied, putting as much cool confidence into his voice as possible, “I can't take a plane, because then Yuri would have to come pick me up. It would ruin the surprise.”

He didn't think it was necessary to add that he'd be excited to see the look on Yuri's face when he met him at the train station. He was glad he had omitted this detail when Serik's next words followed.

“This is the cat adoption thing all over again. You just want to _impress_ him. You know it's insane, right?”

“It's not insane!” Otabek argued. “I've gone on long road trips by myself before, remember?”

“Through Russia? In April?”

“I'll be fine, Serik.”

Otabek knew that Serik had his best interests at heart. He was the type of person who showed his concern by nagging. Otabek was touched that he had friends who worried so strongly about him, but he expected a little more credit. Serik didn't need to treat him like a kid. But he could also tell that Serik was fishing for things to complain about, a sure sign that he had nearly finished with his argument.

“You won't even let us listen to the song...” he grumbled as Otabek continued to make adjustments to his bike.

“It's Yuri's song. He should be the first to hear the completed product.”

He was finished with the tune-up, and all was prepared for the long ride to Moscow. He was already packed, the gift was still safe in his pocket, and there was nothing to stop him from leaving right away. He mounted the bike, but to his surprise and complete irritation, Serik jumped in front of the him.

“Otabek, I can't let you do this. Akerke would kill me if she found out.”

Otabek could tell this was simply Serik's last-ditch effort to keep him away from Yuri. It wasn't going to work.

“Say that I threatened you with violence and escaped before you could stop me.”

Serik shook his head, “There's no way she'll believe that.”

“I could actually run you over, if you'd prefer,” said Otabek. He revved his engine again menacingly.

Serik sprang out of the way, as if he really believed Otabek would run him over with the bike.

“Fine!” he shouted over the growing roar of the engine, “I just want to state for the record that I think this is a stupid plan!”

“You've made that clear.” Otabek said. He wasn't sure if Serik heard him over the sound of the engine as he straightened out his bike, but he didn't care. He wasn't going to wait around for Serik to try some other means of delaying him. He had a long drive ahead, and there wasn't any reason to stay longer.

Speeding down the street, he gave Serik a parting wave. He saw his friend wave him off with an offensive gesture just before turning his attention back to the road. He laughed at Serik's consternation, his spirits high. He whistled a bit of Yuri's song, the notes caught by the wind and carried away as he drove. He was looking forward to visiting Moscow.

 

 


	15. Refrain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels like it's been ages since I've updated a chapter of this story. Sorry for the delay! I wish I could say I had a good excuse - like work or family matters or holiday - but that would be a lie. I'm just super lazy and getting distracted by other story ideas. But fear not! This story will have an ending (and a banquet chapter) I promise. For now, enjoy Yuri's birthday... again.

Three-thousand nine-hundred and sixty-four kilometers later, Otabek waited at the train station for Yuri's arrival. He'd made good time, arriving in Moscow hours before Yuri's train. He passed the time thinking of what he would say to Yuri when they were reunited. He imagined the various faces Yuri might make, and wondered when it would be appropriate to give him his birthday gift. Otabek's hand unconsciously patted the breast pocket of his jacket on multiple occasions, as if to ensure that the compact disc was still there and unbroken.

He was having so much fun dreaming up possible conversations with Yuri that time seemed to pass by in an instant. The hour had come for Yuri's train to arrive.

He spotted Yuri first. The young Russian glanced around at the waiting cars, searching for his ride. Otabek suppressed a smirk as Yuri's eyes scanned over him once before doing a double-take. The expression on his face was far better than Otabek had hoped. His eyes popped, his mouth fell open, and the hand holding his bag relaxed, allowing the duffle to slide off his shoulder and hit the ground with a heavy plop.

“Surprise!” Otabek shouted, “Happy Birthday, Yura!”

Yuri closed his mouth. It fell open again. He closed it once more. Otabek watched this display with amused curiosity. He waited patiently for his friend to gather his thoughts, wondering what he would say.

“How did you know it was my birthday?” Yuri finally asked.

“The other Yuuri told me.”

“I'm going to kill him.”

This was a troubling response. Far from looking pleased, Yuri looked angry. His treat sounded serious. Otabek felt his excitement ebb away, replaced with worry. Perhaps surprising Yuri had been a terrible idea after all.

“You're not happy to see me?” Otabek asked. He could hear the disappointment in his own voice, and was certain Yuri had noticed it too.

“No. I am. I'm very happy to see you,” Yuri stated unconvincingly, “Did you drive all the way here?”

Otabek was still concerned that he'd done something to upset Yuri, but he accepted the change of subject. “I thought I could give you a lift from the station,” he said, concealing the fact that the drive had taken him nearly a week to complete, “You're going to your grandpa's place, right?”

Yuri confirmed his plans with a nod.

“I have an extra helmet for you,” Otabek continued, turning his back to Yuri to fetch the item off his bike, “It's the same one I loaned you in Barcelona, remember?”

He held the helmet out to Yuri with a smile that faltered as he realized Yuri was giving him a blank stare. At first he thought Yuri was staring at his hair. He was embarrassed, thinking that it must look ridiculous after sitting under his own helmet for so long. But Yuri's gaze seemed to trail downward, passing over Otabek's eyes and nose and coming to rest at his lips.

“Yura?” Otabek asked, confused by his friend's odd silence and penetrating stare.

Yuri snapped out of his trance. “I want to ride up front,” he announced suddenly.

Otabek was surprised, but delighted when he realized what Yuri was proposing to him.

“You want to learn how to ride?” he asked, “That's great! I'll teach you.”

Yuri allowed Otabek to take his bag without protest. Otabek slung the strap across his own body, positioning the bag so that it would be out of the way while driving. Meanwhile Yuri had slipped onto the seat of his bike, gripping the handlebars uncertainly and looking terrified.

Otabek thought he looked rather adorable this way, but he didn't want Yuri to suddenly change his mind about learning to drive. He hopped onto the back of the seat and quickly placed his hands on either side of Yuri's, hoping his presence would ease the boy's fears.

“Gas is here. You break with this,” Otabek said gently into Yuri's ear, “I'll be here to guide you, but I'll let you do all the steering, OK?”

Yuri was a terrible driver, but Otabek forgave his many mistakes. After all, it was his first attempt. And to be fair, Yuri managed to steer them to his grandfather's home without crashing or hitting any pedestrians, so he was doing much better than Otabek had on his first time driving.

“That was great, Yura...” Otabek started to say as they pulled up in front of the house, but his words were drowned out as Yuri abruptly sprang from the bike.

“Grandpa!” he shouted with extreme joy. Otabek watched from the back of the bike as Yuri threw himself at an elderly man who had appeared on the front step just as they arrived. Otabek smiled, happy because his friend was happy. Nikolai Plisetsky returned his grandson's embrace, though he looked over Yuri's shoulder at Otabek, a cautious look on his face.

Otabek wasn't sure if it was more respectful to nod or to wave. He was relieved when Yuri pulled away from his grandfather and introduced him as “his friend Otabek from Kazakhstan.”

Otabek felt himself overcome with a quiet desperation to be accepted by this man whom Yuri thought the world of. He dismounted his bike and extended his hand to Nikolai with solemnity, “It's nice to meet you, sir. Yuri's told me so much about you.”

“Well he hasn't said anything about you,” Nikolai said gruffly. Otabek didn't miss the critical eye he leveled at the motorcycle, but he didn't mind. He was used to judgments from people who thought bikes were dangerous, though he wondered if Nikolai's comment was true. Had Yuri really never mentioned him?

He wasn't given long to mull over this fresh concern. Yuri tugged him indoors by the sleeve of his coat, where a tantalizing aroma assailed his senses.

“Pirozhki! Otabek, you have to try one. Grandpa makes the best pirozhki in the world!”

Otabek dropped Yuri's duffle in the living room and followed his friend into the kitchen. There were signs of Nikolai's work still scattered across the counters, though the final product sat proudly in a large serving bowl in the center of the dining table. Otabek took a seat, watching with fascination at the change that had come over Yuri. He seemed much younger in his grandfather's presence with his child-like enthusiasm for the food. Usually Otabek had difficulty remembering that Yuri was younger than him, but now it was hard to imagine that this bright, smiling boy was actually turning sixteen today.

Yuri grabbed one of the still-steaming pirozhki from the serving bowl and split it in half.

“Oh! This is perfect. Look, Otabek,” Yuri said, handing one half of the pirozhki to his friend, “It's one of my grandpa's katsudon pirozhkis. You've gotta have some.”

“Katsudon...?” Otabek asked. The word sounded familiar to him. He thought he remembered Yuri saying something about katsudon to him before...

“Yeah, it's this food they make in Japan. I actually had it at the other Yuuri's hot spring. It's not bad, but it's Katsuki's favorite. That's how he got his nickname.”

“Nickname?”

“Yeah, you know how I'm always calling him Pig? Well Katsudon is their word for pork cutlet bowl. That's where it comes from. That idiot loves katsudon so much it was actually his inspiration for eros. Can you believe how lame that guy is?”

Otabek couldn't respond. He had just remembered where he'd heard the word katsudon before. That's what Yuri said Viktor Nikoforov had been eating the night he came to sleep over with Otabek. Katsudon was a pork cutlet bowl. It was also a name Yuri used for Katsuki...

Otabek felt embarrassed all over again, remembering the look on Katsuki's face when Otabek had mentioned his conversation with Yuri. He looked down at the katsudon-inspired pirozhki in his hand and wasn't sure he could bring himself to try it. But Yuri was looking at him so expectantly he couldn't refuse. He took a tentative bite, and was pleased to find that it tasted as good as it smelled.

“It's good right?” Yuri asked, watching the expression on Otabek's face. He continued to fill Otabek in on the trivia he'd accumulated during his stay in Japan. Nikolai wanted to know more about the recent trip to Korea, and the time passed pleasantly between the three as they swapped stories. Otabek had overcome his shyness in front of Nikolai, and was engrossed in a conversation about vehicle maintenance with him when Yuri suddenly jumped out of his seat.

“I almost forgot!” he said, bolting from the room. Otabek exchanged a glance with Nikolai, but before either of them could speak Yuri had already returned to his chair, a large wrapped gift in his hands.

“Katsuki gave this to me before I left,” Yuri explained as he tore off the wrapping to reveal the box beneath.

“New skates?” Otabek guessed, recognizing the brand printed on the lid.

Yuri opened the lid only to immediately slam it shut again with extreme violence.

“Yuri? What is it?” asked Otabek with concern. He couldn't imagine what Katsuki could have given Yuri that would illicit such an extreme response.

“It's nothing!” Yuri squeaked in a voice two octaves too high, “It's just his idea of a dumb joke!”

Otabek exchanged another glance with Nikolai. He was on the verge of asking Yuri to let them in on the joke when Yuri abruptly changed the subject.

“Where's my cat?”

When Nikolai told him he'd last seen the animal sleeping upstairs, Yuri immediately excused himself from the table. Otabek noted that he was careful to take the box with him. He wanted to follow Yuri, but he didn't want to be rude to Nikolai. He asked if there was anything he could help with in the kitchen, and was staunchly refused.

“I made the mess, I can clean it,” said Nikolai, indicating the dirtied dishes, “You go entertain my grandson.”

And so Otabek found himself marching up the stairs in search of Yuri's pet cat. Yuri was in the lead, and Otabek respectfully stared at his boots as they walked, so as to avoid staring at Yuri's butt. He thought instead of what Yuri's room might look like, and wasn't disappointed to find his bed covered with a leopard-print blanket as soon as Yuri opened the door.

“I knew it!” he declared, sidling past Yuri to stand before the bed.

“What?” Yuri asked.

“Leopard blanket,” Otabek intoned slowly before flopping onto the bed, “How did I know you'd have a leopard-print blanket?”

It was then that he noticed the cat. He'd been so focused on discovering whether his hypothesis concerning Yuri's bedding was true that he neglected the long-haired feline asleep on one of the pillows. She meowed once, drawing his attention as she stretched and slowly began stalking toward him. He stilled himself, allowing the cat to make an investigation of this new subject in her domain. She then began rubbing herself over his face, and he knew he'd been accepted.

“Your cat is like you, Yura,” he said, gathering the cat in his arms and sitting up to grin at Yuri.

“What do you mean by that?” Yuri said, his eyes on the cat who was now purring contentedly in Otabek's arms.

He was distracted. Otabek saw his opportunity and ruffled Yuri's long hair, “You're both so fluffy!”

He laughed at his own joke as Yuri slapped his hand away with a fake scowl.

“Traitor,” he said to his cat, “I haven't seen you in months, and you throw yourself at the first man you see.”

“She can't help herself. Cats just love me.”

As they exchanged some more light banter, Otabek felt that the time was had come. He'd been waiting for an opportunity to give Yuri his birthday gift ever since the train station. Yuri had already received pirozhki from his grandpa, and something mysterious from Katsuki. Otabek didn't want to waste any more time with his own gift.

“I have something for you,” he said without preamble.

He sat Yuri's cat down on the bed and reached into his jacket pocket. Yuri accepted the tiger-striped parcel, even as he questioned what it was.

“It's your birthday present,” said Otabek.

“I thought you were my birthday present,” Yuri replied innocently, but the thought that jumped into Otabek's mind was far from innocent. He raised his eyebrows and looked at Yuri with surprise, wondering if his naive friend noticed the double-meaning that could be inferred from his statement.

Yuri noticed his leer and blushed, “I mean you came all this way!” he clarified. “Just getting to see you is good enough.”

“Then consider this a bonus. It really isn't much, but I made it for you.”

“You made it?” Yuri asked as he peeled away the wrapping to reveal the disc underneath. He read the text Otabek printed on the CD's surface, “ _Yura On Ice_? You made me a mix tape?”

 _Shit_. A mix tape would have been better. It was stupid of him to pour all of his creative energy into _one_ song. He could already hear the judgment in Yuri's voice. He was going to be far more disappointed when he learned the truth.

“It's just one song,” said Otabek, “But it reminds me of you so... It's lame, isn't it?”

Yuri tried to assure him that he didn't think the gift was lame, but Otabek wasn't convinced. He sat down on the edge of the bed while Yuri prepared to play the song. Yuri's cat was still seated nearby, and she rubbed against Otabek's arm, begging for attention. He picked her up and promptly buried his face in her fur. To think he'd been so excited to share his work with Yuri. Now he wanted very much to sink into the floor and disappear.

“What are you doing?” Otabek heard Yuri ask.

“I don't know...” Otabek said truthfully. “I'm kind of embarrassed.”

Yuri's cat squirmed out of Otabek's hands and meowed petulantly as the first notes of Otabek's song began to play.

Otabek watched Yuri's face anxiously, searching for a sign that his hard work and the long drive hadn't been in vain. Yuri's expression was one of surprise as the heavy base beat and electronic melody filled the room. Wide-eyed, Yuri took a seat next to Otabek. He was clearly enthralled, and Otabek was pleased to see that he was tapping his foot in time to the music.

Yuri let out a gasp, and Otabek finally breathed a sigh of relief. He'd have been disappointed if Yuri hadn't recognized the song as the one he'd been humming the night they danced in Korea.

“I did say that it reminded me of you, right? I guess it's more accurate to say that this is what I hear when I think of you.”

“But this is... Usually my music is more...”

Otabek could tell he was struggling, but he already understood what Yuri was trying to say. He nodded his head, saying, “But that stuff isn't like you. Not really. It's too pretty. You're not pretty.”

He saw Yuri's expression turn sour and knew he'd struck a nerve. Chuckling at Yuri's sensitive ego, he said, “Come on, you know I think your _skating_ is beautiful. But you could be so much more than that. Remember what I said about the first time I saw you?”

“You said I had the eyes of a solider,” Yuri quoted.

“I still think that about you. And one day everyone else is gonna see it, too. I just have to make sure I get at least one gold medal over you before that happens.”

“Never gonna happen,” Yuri said, playfully pushing against Otabek's shoulder.

“Why not?” Otabek said, gently pushing him back. “I think I have a good chance. If your hair gets any longer, you'll trip over it and break your leg. Then I'll win by default.”

Yuri started to argue, but Otabek was seized by the sudden desire to touch Yuri's blond hair. He brushed the fringe that was perpetually falling over Yuri's face away, revealing both of his emerald green eyes. Yuri's next words were snatched away by this sudden gesture, and Otabek half expected him to pull away or even retaliate with a punch. He didn't do either, and Otabek didn't remove his hand. It remained at the side of Yuri's face, having done the work of tucking the pesky lock of hair behind one ear.

Otabek became consumed by a wholly new desire. His gaze fell away from those bewitching green eyes and fell toward Yuri's mouth. For an instant, he imagined what it would be like to lean in, wrap Yuri in both of his arms, and kiss him on that perfect mouth...

“I should go,” he heard himself say.

“Wait, what? But you just got here!” Yuri exclaimed. Now he really did pull away, staring at Otabek with obvious disappointment.

Otabek wasn't sure of his own emotions. The only thing he knew for certain was that he'd just fantasized about kissing his best friend. He could feel panic threatening to take over

He managed to stay calm and speak evenly as he made his excuses to Yuri. He didn't feel safe remaining in Yuri's bedroom any longer, so he quickly made his way downstairs, bid farewell to Nikolai, and parted ways with Yuri at the front door.

* * *

 

He made it down the street only a few blocks before he pulled into a convenience store parking lot. Still astride his bike, he hastily pulled off his helmet, his fingers shaking as he struggled to undo the fastening under his chin. He inhaled sharply to steady himself and reached into his jacket pocket, flinching at the reminder that a short while ago it held Yuri's birthday present. Trembling, he pulled his cellphone from that pocket, scrolled through his contacts, and selected Akerke's name.

To his relief, she answered right away.

“Hello! Otabek? How's the birthday celebration going? Did he like his gift?”

Otabek gripped his phone tighter in an attempt to stop his hand from shaking. “Akerke... I think I'm in trouble.”

She must have heard the desperation in his voice, because her joking tone was instantly replaced with sympathy as she asked, “What happened?”

There was no easy way to explain what had happened, so he took another deep breath, and said in a rush, “I think I'm in love with Yuri.”

“I know.”

Otabek was taken aback. Akerke was silent on the other end of the line, as if waiting for Otabek to say something more.

“You do?” he asked.

“Beck, everyone knows. He's all you ever talk about.”

“Well it's news to me!” Otabek was practically wailing.

“Alright! Calm down and tell me what happened.”

Otabek still wasn't entirely sure what had happened, himself. He closed his eyes, picturing the scene that had just passed as he described the situation to Akerke.

“We were sitting in his room. I had just given him his gift and we were listening to it together. Everything was fine. Then the song ended... and I suddenly felt like kissing him.”

He had to pull the phone away from his ear as Akerke squealed with delight.

“You're kidding! And then what happened?” she asked with baited breath.

“I left.”

“You _left_?!”

“I panicked!” Otabek said. “I didn't know what else to do...”

“You left... I can't believe this. Serik, you talk to him. I literally can't even right now...”

Otabek listened to the sound of a phone switching hands, then Serik's deeper voice sounded in his ear, “Hello? Beck?”

“Yes, Serik. I'm here.”

“Well, you've got Akerke all pissed off. So what's the problem?”

“I tried to kiss Yuri.”

“Woah woah woah, I'm going to stop you there, mate,” Serik said, even though Otabek hadn't planned to say anything more. “First thing's first. How old is this kid?”

Otabek resented the reminder that Yuri was younger than him. Calling him a kid made it sound like Otabek was doing something illegal. “He just turned sixteen today.”

“Oh, well then there's no problem! Go back there and bang that barely legal blond!”

Otabek took three deep breaths, then calmly said, “Put Akerke back on the phone, please.”

“Oh sweetie,” Akerke's voice cooed, “You're on speaker.”

Otabek clinched his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He hated when they put him on speakerphone.

“Akerke, a little help here, please?” he asked when he felt the could speak without screaming.

“Well it's obvious that you had no business leaving in the first place! You need to march your ass back there and tell Yuri how you feel!”

Otabek couldn't help but acknowledge the sense behind Akerke's advice. True, he'd been frightened at the discovery of his own feelings, but now that he had time to process his emotions, he wanted to share them with Yuri.

Before he could express his gratitude to Akerke for validating his own thoughts, Serik interrupted to spoil everything.

“Now wait a minute! He can't do that!”

Otabek was ready to throw his phone to the cement in his frustration. “A minute ago you told me to go back and _bang_ him!”

“And I'm sure that would be great. But think, aren't you competing against him in a few weeks?”

Otabek paused. Just as he was inclined to agree with Akerke from an emotional standpoint, his logical brain couldn't fail to see the direction Serik's argument was taking. He knew what Serik would say before he spoke.

“If you tell Yuri that you like him now, and he rejects you, then you'll be totally off your game when it comes time to compete.”

“That's if he rejects me. The thing is... I think he likes me, too.”

“All the more reason to keep your mouth shut! Starting a relationship right before a competition is the worst thing you can do! Either both of you suck because you're too chicken shit to compete against the other seriously, or you take it too far and and loser resents the winner.”

He didn't like it, but Serik was right. A confession now might seem like he was trying to get into Yuri's head, distract him from the competition, and sabotage his performance. Otabek remembered Yuri's failure at the European Championship, and he knew he couldn't bear to see his friend suffer like that again. Neither he nor Yuri could afford any distractions right now.

“Fine,” he said, “I won't tell Yuri. At least not until after Worlds.”

He hung up with out saying goodbye. Putting his phone back in his pocket, he restarted his bike. He sat motionless for a few minutes, allowing the engine to idle beneath him. His thoughts were on Yuri, still only a few blocks away. He knew he could go back, make some excuse, pretend nothing was wrong and spend the rest of Yuri's birthday together. But the temptation to expose his feelings would be too great.

“This sucks,” he said, flipping up the kickstand of his bike and beginning the long drive back to Kazakhstan.

 


	16. Dissonance

This was Otabek's own personal hell.

Under normal circumstances, he might have been happy. Yuri was by his side. They were both at the World Championship, preparing for their individual performances with a few warm-up stretches. But the complicated contortions Yuri made with his body hardly qualified as “normal” and Otabek was finding it very difficult to focus on his own stretching.

_That should be illegal_ , Otabek thought as Yuri bent at the waist, placing his hands flat on the floor. Never mind that Seung-gil was executing the same move nearby, twerking while he did it. Otabek didn't notice him. He only had eyes for Yuri.

Yuri straightened himself, only to pull one of his legs up behind his head, grasping his ankle with both hands.

_Lord, give me strength..._ Otabek groaned internally.

When Yuri turned his head to look at him, Otabek quickly looked away. He'd maintained his resolve to keep quiet about his feelings until after the competition. It wasn't right for him to ogle Yuri's body while the Russian remained oblivious to his intentions.

Something in his expression must have betrayed him, prompting Yuri to ask, “Are you sure you're OK?”  
It was the third time Yuri had questioned him in this way. As far as Otabek was concerned, a lie of omission was still a lie. It went against his nature to deceive his friends, and Yuri's friendship meant everything to him. But he couldn't jeopardize Yuri's standing in the competition by telling him the truth, so he was forced to lie every single time Yuri asked him how he was feeling.

“I told you. I'm fine. It's just nerves,” Otabek replied, settling for a half-truth. He felt so nervous he thought he might throw up. But that had less to do with skating, and more with the way Yuri's back curved as he performed another stretch.

Yuri did not appear convinced, but Yakov called to him. It was nearly time for the first group of skaters to begin. Yuri gave a slight huff of annoyance which Otabek found absolutely adorable, then he turned back to Otabek with a look that forewarned danger. He wasn't finished with their conversation.

_Say something to him, idiot_ , Otabek chastised himself. But he could only manage a faint “good luck” as Yuri followed his coach toward the rink.

He could hear the crowd cheer as Yuri's name was announced. Watching the performance in his current state could be damaging. He reminded himself that he'd already seen this program countless times. And yet he couldn't stay away.

Yuri glided onto the ice, arms outspread to welcome the applause from his numerous fans.

Otabek felt more relaxed, watching Yuri his element. Perhaps it was the distance between them. Whatever the case, Otabek found his voice. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he shouted as loud as he could, “YURA! DAVAI!”

Shouting, much like public speaking, was not Otabek's strongest talent. He wondered if he had been loud enough for Yuri to hear, and was thankful to see the blond's head turn in his direction. Their eyes met, and he flashed Yuri a thumbs-up.

He'd always been a fan of Yuri's skating. He'd admired him from the start, back when he was just a child in Yakov's training camp, practicing at the ballet barre. Now Otabek watched Yuri perform this season's short program for the umpteenth time, and yet it felt brand new. This was the first time he had seen Yuri skate since realizing his feelings for him went farther than that of friendship.

Yuri was always beautiful on the ice, but today, he was breathtaking.

Otabek felt himself plagued with doubt as he scanned the expressions of the other spectators. Did they see what he saw? Were they overcome by the same emotions? When exactly had his feelings changed? Or had they been there from the start, born from admiration and respect?

He bolted from the rink as the song drew to a close. He was shaking, his heart racing in his chest. He needed to calm down before his performance, and there was no way that was going to happen if he stayed until the end of Yuri's program.

He fled to a public restroom, placing his sweaty palms on the edge of a sink and avoiding eye contact with his own reflection. He turned the faucet on, splashing himself in the face with the cold water.

“Wow! I never thought I'd see the day when you finally caved under the pressure.”

Otabek lifted his dripping face from the sink and saw Jean-Jacques Leroy reflected in the mirror over his shoulder. He was smirking.

“Everyone gets nervous sometimes,” Otabek said, fighting to keep his voice level. He didn't want to show weakness in front of JJ.

“You don't have to tell me that,” JJ said, the corners of his mouth twitching down slightly. He drew closer, standing near Otabek's side as he washed his hands in the neighboring sink. “I'm the one who had a meltdown at the Grand Prix, remember?”

He could talk about it casually now, but Otabek remembered JJ's devastation at that time. He'd seen JJ crying in the arms of his mother after the performance that nearly broke him. He never particularly cared for the so-called “JJ Style” of skating, but it had been hard to see someone usually so confident become so discouraged.

“But I have to say,” JJ continued after a brief pause, “I am a little relieved to see that mask of yours crack a little bit. It proves you're human.”

Otabek couldn't tell if JJ was making fun of him, but he was already in a bad mood thanks to the current situation with Yuri. He worked to keep his tone neutral as he asked, “Did you want something?”

JJ's smirk fell, but only slightly. He continued to observe Otabek with a slight grin. Otabek refused to be the one to break the silence. He stared back at JJ unblinkingly, wondering what it was that made JJ seek him out like this time after time. Perhaps it was because they had similar hairstyles. He made a mental note to ask Akerke to cut his hair when he returned home.

“It was your fault, you know,” JJ finally said.

“What was?”

“My meltdown. I got one of your perfectly executed jumps stuck in my head, and it threw off my game.”

“My jumps?” Otabek asked, now certain that JJ was making fun of him, “But Yuri...”

“Oh yeah,” JJ said with a dismissive wave, “The little kitten is an impressive skater. But you're... I don't know, I guess I thought maybe we were kind of similar? But there's just enough difference between us...”

“So what?” Otabek asked, turning to face JJ head-on, his hands dropping to his sides. His was preparing himself for a fight, thinking that JJ blamed him for his poor performance at the Grand Prix.

JJ saw the threat behind the pseudo-casual stance and displayed his palms in a gesture of goodwill.

“You're a difficult person to get to know, do you realize that? I just want to be friends!”

“Friends?” Otabek repeated, not sure he understood the offer. His mind immediately jumped back to that day in Barcelona when he'd made a similar offer to Yuri. He eyed JJ suspiciously, but the Canadian skater only held out his hand in a friendly manner.

Otabek wondered what Yuri would say if he where here at this moment. It was no secret that he loathed JJ as much as he admired Yuuri Katsuki and envied Vikor Nikiforov. There was no way he'd approve of a friendship between his most hated rival and Otabek.

But as JJ's friend, perhaps Otabek could use his influence to help Yuri a little...

“OK,” Otabek said, accepting JJ's handshake. He gripped a little tighter than usual, stopping JJ before he could pull his hand away. “But I have a condition.”

“Usually people don't enter into negotiations when making friends,” JJ said jokingly, though Otabek could tell he was curious to hear what Otabek had to say.

“Don't ever refer to Yuri as a 'little kitten' again.”

He gave JJ's hand an extra squeeze to show he was serious, then he left without another word.

* * *

Otabek knew he was in trouble the moment his skates hit the ice. He was only distantly aware of the welcoming applause from the audience. His mind was lost in a dense fog, the only clear images those of Yuri, his performance so clear in Otabek's memory.

He wasn't intimidated by Yuri's performance, as JJ had been with Otabek's at the Grand Prix. Yuri's skating had only ever inspired him. It was never a hindrance. But he had only recently come to terms with the fact that he liked Yuri as more than a friend. The innocent daydreams about hand-holding and kissing he'd entertained the last few weeks had abruptly blossomed into more explicit fantasies in Yuri's presence, and he was befuddled by the erotic thoughts which sprang to mind whenever he pictured Yuri's lithe form. To make matters worse, the knowledge that he was keeping his feelings a secret from Yuri weighed heavily on him, like rocks settling in the pit of stomach.

With his emotions in turmoil, it came as no surprise that he was unable to keep up with the music. But he fought to regain control. He still wanted to perform, to compete... Not just for himself, but for Yuri, who would surely be in the stands, watching him skate...

As his minds started to drift, so did his skates across the ice. His movements were lazy, lacking the passion and precision he usually tried to bring to his performances. He pulled into a sharp spin, reprimanding himself for losing his cool. Skating was supposed to be the most important thing in his life, and he was letting everyone down. He tried to think of his friends back home, of his country who backed him with its full support... But his mind wandered again to Yuri, and the thought of the young Russian in his white, sheer skating costume flit across his mind.

He went down. His knee took the brunt of the fall, and a splitting pain obliterated all thoughts of Yuri in an instant. All the could think of was recovering from the mistake. Somehow he made it to his feet, but the pain was now shooting down the length of his leg. He couldn't tell if it was sprained, but he was certain to have a hell of a bruise tomorrow.

It was annoying, and he could feel his face glowing red with shame, but miraculously, the pain helped him focus. He could finally distract himself from Yuri. He completed the short program without any more glaring mistakes, though there was no doubt it had been a dismal spectacle.

He made his way slowly to the kiss and cry, thankful that his skates would allow him to glide with dignity. He prayed he wouldn't have to limp to his seat. His coach met him at the edge of the rink, skate guards in hand and ready to offer what sympathetic support he could. Otabek accepted his forced praise with practiced stoicism. He was thankful that he wasn't a chatty person. He could be silent without appearing to pout.

He resolved himself before receiving the scores. He knew what the results would be. Even if he managed to break a record with this free program tomorrow – a feat which he had never accomplished - he'd blown his chance at the podium. But Yuri still had a chance. He couldn't let his failure hurt Yuri. He would put on a brace face for him, and continue to conceal his feelings until after the competition.

 


	17. Cadenza

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anyone asks, the answer is yes. I have seen "Welcome to the Madness." I've even seen the accompanying manga. It kills me that I didn't see the full thing before writing this fanfiction. Haven't seen the full video yet? Look it up. It's amazing. Everything is good, and nothing hurts.

“Let me see.”

“Pass.”

“Beka! I'm serious, you could be really hurt!”

“I'm fine. It's just bruised.”

This wasn't entirely true. Otabek's leg hurt like hell. But it held his weight, so nothing was broken. And yet try as he might, he couldn't avoid the slight limp in his walk, and Yuri had been quick to notice. Somehow the young Russian managed to keep his mouth shut until they reached the hotel, then the complaints started. Otabek was touched by his concern, but stripping off his pants in front of Yuri was not something felt emotionally prepared for.

“I don't know why you're being so stubborn...” Yuri said, casting his eyes to the floor with a deep frown.

Otabek wanted to grab Yuri's face with both hands and kiss the deep crease between his eyebrows until it melted away under his lips. He smothered the feeling and settled for stating, “It's for the best.”

They separated in the elevator. Otabek beat a hasty retreat to his room, hoping to escape Yuri's penetrating stare before he accidentally let out his secret. But Yuri was nothing if not determined. He was waiting outside Otabek's door first thing the next morning, determined to force him into a having an energy-packed breakfast and inquiring after his bruised leg.

“I already told you. It's fine,” said Otabek. “It's actually feels a lot better than the time you kicked me.”

He'd hoped the memory of that incident would distract Yuri, but his plan backfired. Yuri flinched, obviously still embarrassed for his previous behavior, but seeing the playful smirk on Otabek's face, he scowled and said, “I won't believe you unless you show me.”

Otabek groaned. The sound escaped before he could check himself, surprising them both. Yuri stared at him, surprised to witness such obvious exasperation from someone who usually played his emotions close to his chest.

“Yura, I'm begging you. Can we please drop the subject?”

His pitiful plea won him the argument, but the reprieve did not last long. Yuri was soon pestering him again about the secret he was hiding. It didn't matter how many times Otabek assured him they could talk after competition, or how often he reminded Yuri that telling him now could upset his performance, it only added logs to the fire of Yuri's curiosity.

As he skate dot center ice to begin his free program, he was on the point of a nervous breakdown. He'd spent all morning worrying that something he'd say or do would reveal his secret to Yuri. He tried to tap into the sense of serenity skating usually gave him when he was upset or angry. It helped. A calm resolve began to take the place of the frantic emotions that had been building since yesterday. He had already given up his chance at placing in the competition. So with nothing to lose, skating was easier.

He was still disappointed in his overall performance. In some corner of his mind, he knew he was punishing himself for keeping a secret against his nature. Nothing would be the same until he had a chance to talk to Yuri.

He wouldn't have much longer to wait. The time had come for Yuri to give his final free skate performance. Otabek picked a spot near the edge of the rink, thinking he would make his confession to Yuri immediately after the program. Perhaps he could meet him in the Kiss and Cry, and tell Yuri about his affection for him as he received his score, which was sure to be amazing.

This plan fell apart as he watched Yuri perform his free skate. He'd nearly forgotten the reason Yuri had captured his attention in the first place. He was gorgeous on the ice. Otabek found himself as enthralled by this performance as the rest of the crowd. Yuri's power and grace and he cut his way across the frozen stage was awe-inspiring. He brought a palpable energy to the performance, making it seem like something wholly new, as if he hadn't been performing this same routine all season. Otabek wouldn't have been able to tear himself away if he tried.

He knew Yuri had secured another victory, even before the routine was complete. He would break another record, and win a gold medal at the World Championship. And Otabek? He would fade into obscurity.

Otabek crushed this thought as soon as it formed. Now was not the time to feel sorry for himself. Truly, he was happy for Yuri. It was something of a consolation to know that even if Otabek came in last, Yuri would take first.

And yet, he hadn't been wrong about his obscurity. A crowd formed around Yuri even before he'd left the Kiss and Cry. Otabek was merely a background figure. Confessing to Yuri now, in front of so many spectators as he prepared to mount the victory podium, was out of the question. It wasn't a good time. Perhaps it would never be a good time.

He finally managed to catch Yuri's eye over the heads of the crowd. Mustering all the good-feeling he could, he flashed his friend a smile and a thumbs-up. Yuri looked as if he wanted to say something, but he couldn't be heard over the chatter and cheers.

Otabek wanted him to have this moment, but he couldn't stand being so near, and not being able to take him in his arms. This feeling he'd valiantly kept in check for weeks was now insupportable. Yuri's shining light was too blindingly bright for him now.

He turned his back, and returned to the hotel.

* * *

 Otabek stared at his phone. The blinking light signaled a text message, and he had a strong suspicion he new who it was from.

He'd switched his phone off the night before, wanting nothing more than a sound sleep to forget his troubles. He'd had quiet, but sleep hadn't come easily. When he woke, it was still dark. The sun hadn't yet risen for the new day.

With his phone on and sitting in his palm, he checked the messages. There were quite a few. Serik had sent him a long text full of his affectionate support in spite of Otabek's “colossal failure.” Those were his words. Otabek tried not to take offense. Akerke merely wanted to know how things were going with Yuri.

Yuri... two of the text messages were from him.

 **Where are you?** He'd sent soon after the competition ended yesterday. Followed quickly by **You still owe me an explanation.**

Otabek fell back onto the bed, the phone dropping to his side as he stared up at the ceiling. It was too early to text him back, and what he had to say wasn't appropriate for a text message, anyway. He could tell him in person.

He'd been confident that Yuri would return his feelings, but now he had second thoughts. Things were different now. It hadn't been easy for him to be around Yuri, and now that he was a World Champion...

Otabek rolled to the side as if in so doing he could escape his own thoughts. It didn't matter if Yuri liked him or not. He wasn't going to lie anymore. He'd tell him the truth the next time they met.

He told himself as much, but the next time he'd see Yuri was still in question. He went to the arena that day to watch the expositions of the other skaters. He, of course, had opted not to participate in the festivities surrounding the end of competition. There would be plenty of opportunity to speak to Yuri if he wished, and yet he found himself ducking around corners, getting lost among the crowds, and even on one occasion using JJ as a human shield.

“Um... Can I ask what you're doing?” the Canadian asked as Otabek cowered behind his back.

“You wanted to be my friend, right? So be quiet and let me stand here.”

Yuri and his entourage were passing only a few yards away. Otabek knew that Yuri's distaste for JJ would act as a natural deterrent. He would avoid even glancing in the Canadian's direction, if he could help it. And if he didn't see Otabek, then Otabek wouldn't be forced to speak with him.

He knew they would have to talk eventually, but it never seemed like the right time. Yuri was still riding on the high of his victory, and he always seemed to be surrounded by so many people...

“Congrats, Yuri! Can't wait to see your performance!” JJ suddenly shouted.

Otabek swiftly drove his fist into JJ's back, “Shut up! Don't get his attention!”

JJ hissed in pain and shot a glare over his shoulder, “What the hell, Altin?!”

“Can you control your need to be the center of attention for one second and just _shut up_?” Otabek pleaded.

“But I thought you two were friends! Why are you hiding from him?”

“It's... complicated.”

“Complicated? What could be so complicated about...” JJ froze. Otabek watched with terror as apprehension dawned on the Canadian's face. “Oh...” he breathed quietly before exclaiming, “OH MY GOD, YOU LIKE...”

Otabek clamped his hands over JJ's mouth to muffle his shouting. Thankfully, Yuri had moved far enough away not to be bothered by JJ's outburst, and the attention of everyone else was on the Russian skater. Barely anyone noticed the two grappling figure skaters as JJ fought to free himself.

Otabek released him, but only after saying, “JJ, for the love of god, don't make me kill you.”

“You... like him?” JJ wheezed. The silent struggle with Otabek had taken the wind from him, but he couldn't keep the look of amusement from his face, “Does he know?”

Otabek frowned. He didn't know if he should be confiding in JJ, but he found himself shaking his head.

“I'm going to tell him,” JJ said, his feet already moving toward Yuri.

Otabek nearly tackled him to the ground. “You can't!”

“Then you have to tell him!”

“I will! I mean... I was going to...”

“Well what's stopping you?”

“There's... there's too many people. I want to tell him in private.”

“People? Who cares about people?! I proposed to my fiancee in front of all of our friends and family!”

“That's good for you, JJ. But I don't really want an audience. I mean, what if Yuri...”

“What?”

“... What if he doesn't like me back?”

He'd managed to stump JJ. The Canadian stared into Otabek's face, probably able to see the misery that lay beneath Otabek's calm features. He then glanced in the direction Yuri gone, as if thinking deeply about this strange situation his new friend had landed himself in.

“OK. Maybe he doesn't like you,” JJ conceded.

This was a blow Otabek hadn't been prepared for. He didn't know what he'd been expecting, but for JJ to bluntly confirm his worst fears was insupportable. He hung his head in defeat, but JJ hadn't finished.

“That doesn't change the way you feel about him, does it?”

Otabek, eyes still on the floor, shook his head again.

“Then you still have to tell him. You can't be friends and keep secrets like that at the same time.”

Otabek glanced up and JJ in surprise. He hadn't expected to hear his own thoughts voiced to him by someone who's personality was so completely the opposite of his own. He wasn't sure what to say, but JJ merely grinned at him and took him by the arm.

“C'mon. You can sit with Izzy and me during the performance.”

Otabek allowed himself to be led to the rink. JJ had to excuse himself for a portion of the expo, as he was one of the performers, but his fiancee turned out to be surprisingly good company. She didn't try to force him into conversation, and allowed Otabek to sit in silence to mull over his options concerning Yuri. Otabek figured he had JJ to thank for this small courtesy, as he'd heard him whisper “love troubles” into Isabella's ear just before he left.

Otabek had little more to endure than the occasional coy glance from Isabella. He was fine with that. He could direct his thoughts toward what he was going to say to Yuri.

“So what did you think?”

Otabek flinched, realizing that JJ had plopped into the seat next to him. Had he finished his performance already?

“I'm sorry... I wasn't...”

“Weren't paying attention right?” JJ said with another grin. He didn't seem the least insulted. “I completely understand, _mon ami_! But I think you'd better pull yourself together. You're not going to want to miss this...”  
He pointed toward the ice, where Yuri Plisetky was gliding along to the cheers of his adoring fans.

Otabek held his breath. Yuri looked so different. With his hair in a half-up style and sunglasses over his eyes, he looked positively... dangerous.

JJ let out a low whistle, “Well, would you check out that outfit? Looks like someone wants to appear older.”

“He looks sleezy.” Isabella commented.

“I think he's wonderful,” said Otabek defensively. His eyes were too locked on Yuri to notice the glance exchanged between JJ and his fiancee.

The song started, and Otabek gasped. He'd recognized it instantly. How could he not? It was the song he'd composed for Yuri.

And it wasn't just the song. Otabek recognized some of his own movements incorporated into Yuri's routine. He'd changed his usual style for something more powerful, more masculine. Otabek felt like he was on the ice with Yuri, soaring along with every jump, feeling the butterflies in his own stomach with each spin.

Yuri had taken his advice. He'd added a bit of himself to the routine. Not the delicate, textbook precision the fangirls knew him for, but the wild, fierce passion Otabek knew him to be capable of. It was this extra element, this side of Yuri no one but he had ever guessed existed, that Otabek found... incredibly arousing.

It was a new feeling for him, to be so physically drawn to another person. Normally, he would push the feeling down, but he didn't resist this time. This was Yuri's confession. Using his song and his movements, Yuri was pouring his love out on the ice, spelling it out in the wicked lines of his body. Otabek had his answer now.

“JJ, can I borrow your skates?” Otabek asked in his typical straightforward fashion.

JJ had been starting at Yuri's performance with his mouth hanging open, but he snapped out of his shock at Otabek's question. “Huh? Why?”

“Because I left mine at the hotel.”

He said it so reasonably that JJ didn't ask any other questions. He merely handed over his skates and turned back to the performance. Otabek could tell from the music that the song was nearly at an end. He hurried down toward the edge of the rink, seating himself on a bench to quickly lace JJ's skates to his feet. They were a bit tight, but they fit. Otabek was on his feet again and at the edge of the rink as Yuri completed his final move.

Otabek didn't care about the crowd anymore. All he cared about was Yuri, and how he could get him in his arms as quickly as possible. He pushed himself into the rink, skillfully avoiding the stuffed animals and flowers that were raining down around his beloved.

Yuri turned toward him, a look of fear on his face as Otabek approached.

“I'm sorry!” he said as soon as Otabek was within earshot. His hands were raised before him as if he were shielding himself, “I should have asked you before I used the song. Are you mad?”

“Mad?” Otabek asked. He almost started laughing. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Yuri, pulling him close. Yuri, somewhat frantic, tried to pull himself away. Otabek loosened his grip, but he didn't let Yuri get too far. His arms remained around Yuri's waist as he stared into his green eyes.

“So... I take it you aren't mad about the song?”

“I wrote it for you, dummy.”

“Right... Thanks again... It was fun... to try something other than ballet...”

Otabek was barely listening. He was too wrapped up in the joy of holding Yuri like this.

“You were beautiful,” he said, cutting into Yuri's lame attempts at conversation.

He was blessed by another of Yuri's adorable frowns, “I wasn't trying to be beautiful that time.”

Otabek increased the pressure he had on Yuri's waist, while his hands briefly considered traveling further down...

“You were sexy,” he corrected, realizing that more accurately captured what he was feeling at the moment.

“W-What?” Yuri stammered.

This had been fun, but Otabek was getting tired of teasing him. It was time to cut right to the chase.

“Yura, are you going to be my boyfriend or not?”

He watched as Yuri's face colored, then he felt Yuri's hands sliding up his chest, coming to rest behind his neck as Yuri pulled him closer. He felt Yuri's soft lips, slick with chapstick, caress his own. He tried to suppress the growl of desire that rose up in his throat, hoping Yuri wouldn't notice.

He was profoundly disappointed when Yuri suddenly pulled away.

“But wait,” he said, “What was it you were waiting to tell me?”

He knew Yuri could be dense, but this was extra.

“Stupid,” he said, the growl he'd been trying to suppress escaping with his words, “Can't you guess?”

He returned Yuri's kiss, crushing their lips together. His tongue ran between Yuri's lips, flicking over Yuri's teeth until he parted the barrier and allowed Otabek inside. They remained locked in this embrace, tasting one another as the pent-up frustration Otabek had experienced the last few weeks was released.

Otabek never wanted this moment to end, but soon Yuri's hands were frantically smacking his back, and he pulled away. Yuri directed a sheepish glance at the audience, who appeared to be just as pleased by this turn of events as Otabek was himself. Otabek couldn't understand why he'd been nervous about confessing in front of a crowd before. This was amazing.

“We should go...” Yuri muttered, his face aglow with embarrassment.

He was so cute, Otabek couldn't resist teasing him just a bit more.

“You're so passionate, Yura.”

“Shut. Up.”

Hand in hand, they skated off to the edge of the rink.


	18. Duet

Otabek finished adjusting his tie and checked his handiwork in the mirror. The black bow was still crooked, and now heavily creased from his previous failed attempts. He'd never been good at this sort of thing. With a frown, he tugged the scrap of fabric from his neck, deciding he could simply go without. Who said he needed a black tie for a black tie gala, anyway?

In truth, he was impatient to return to Yuri. Every minute he wasted on trying to fix his tie was keeping him away from his boyfriend, and he hated it. And so he rode the elevator down the the first floor with the collar of his white shirt open and a black suit jacket snugly settled on his shoulders.

Yuri waited for him in the lobby. They smiled at each other from across the room, taking hurried steps to meet each other halfway. But once they were close enough to wrap their arms around one another, they stopped.

“Hey,” said Yuri, the smile on his face doing little to hide his uncertainty.

“Hey,” replied Otabek, his expression equally unsure.

They had only just started dating, and things were still a little awkward after their public, on-ice kiss. Otabek wasn't sure how he was supposed to greet Yuri now. He was seized by a sudden panic, wondering if Yuri had expected to kiss again, and that he'd hesitated too long.

He needed a distraction, and thankfully, Yuri's clothes were very distracting. Instead of black-tie finery, Yuri was still dressed in the outfit he'd worn for his expo performance. Otabek couldn't help but feel that the vibrant pink blazer would stand out among the crowd of formal skaters flocking toward the ballroom.

“You didn't change?” he asked.

“Nope. I like these clothes better.” Yuri gripped the lapels of the jacket and gave them a proud snap.

“Aren't those the same clothes you bought in Barcelona?”

He was referring to the shopping excursion he and Yuri had embarked on after cementing their friendship all those months ago.

“Took you long enough! And anyway, I've been thinking about my expo routine. I've got an idea about how we can make it even better...”

Yuri was going to say more, but the pair were interrupted by the appearance of Jean-Jacques Leroy and his fiance.

“Congratulations, Otabek!” JJ cheered as he threw an arm around the Kazakh's shoulders. “That was quite a show you put on today! Oh, and Yuri's skating was nice as well.”

He fired a wink a Yuri, prompting the blonde to stick out his tongue in disgust. Otabek could tell from his tone that JJ meant to include Yuri as an afterthought on purpose. Yuri's reaction made the Canadian laugh.

“Yes, congrats, Otabek,” Isabella added. She was eyeing Yuri with a wary glance as she gently tugged on JJ's arm, pulling him away from Otabek's side as if she sensed danger, “JJ and I are very happy for you, but... Couldn't you have picked someone a bit less...”

“Less _what_?” Yuri snarled.

If Otabek had been in her shoes, he would have fled from the sight of that angry tiger. But Isabella must have been made from tougher stuff, because she smiled in the face of Yuri's barely restrained rage and stated, “Less hostile.”

“Fuck you, bitch! I'll show you hostile!” Yuri shouted. Otabek instinctively reached for his hand, locking him in place.

“Eek! JJ, save me!” Isabella squealed in mock terror. JJ took her arm and led her into the ballroom, the two of them laughing at Yuri's fury.

Otabek waited patiently for Yuri to calm himself. It took a shorter time than expected. Yuri's temper seemed to dissipate as quickly as it flared up.

“OK,” Yuri said after a few deep breaths, “What the hell was that about?”

“Right, I forgot to mention,” began Otabek. He was trying not to be overwhelmed by the fact that Yuri hadn't pulled his hand away. If he was going to be Yuri's boyfriend, he'd have to learn not to get flustered by something as simple as hand-holding. “I sort of agreed to be JJ's friend.”

“Over my dead body!”

“Don't be angry,” said Otabek, pulling Yuri in the direction recently taken by JJ and Isabella, “He's not that bad.”

“He's literally the worst person I've ever met!”

“That may be true,” said Otabek, unable to suppress a smile, “But he let me borrow his skates.”

“So? What's that got to do with anything?”

“Well, it enabled me to... you know... meet you on the ice.”

Yuri's face colored slightly, and he bowed his head, embarrassed by the recent memory.

Otabek managed to silence Yuri's protests concerning JJ for the moment, but JJ was certainly not the last skater to approach them with congratulations. Otabek supposed he should feel grateful for everyone's support, but in reality he would have preferred some time alone with Yuri. Things were still so awkward between them, and it didn't help that someone accosted them every five minutes, saying things like “I suppose you two will be joining the pairs division next season?” or Otabek's personal favorite, “Isn't he a little young for you?”

Otabek was on the point of suggesting that they run away to explore Helsinki the same way they explored Gangneung, but he was stopped by Yuri's groans of repugnance.

“UGH! They're at it again! Do they ever stop?”

Otabek directed his attention toward the subject of Yuri's disdain. Yuuri Katsuki and Viktor Nikiforov had taken to the dance floor. The pair were twirling away to the music, laughing at nothing and generally appearing stupidly in love.

“It's awful, isn't it?” chimed in a new voice.

Chris had drawn close to Yuri's side. He was nursing a glass of white wine and gazing at the couple with open disappointment. Otabek and Yuri exchanged a surprised glance, then Yuri responded, “I always think they're awful. But I thought you were all for, y'know... Team _Viktuuri_?”

“That's his job,” Chris said absently, waving his hand in the direction of Phichit Chulanuot. The Thai skater was standing at the edge of the dance floor, eagerly snapping pictures of the happy couple. Knowing Phichit, he was probably uploading the pictures to Instagram as quickly as he took them.

Chris sighed and continued mournfully, “Viktor is trying his hardest to re-create the magic of last year's banquet, but it's just not the same if no one's getting naked.”

“Ah... I see,” commented Yuri flatly. Otabek coughed into his fist.

“I even brought my portable stripper pole, just in case.”

“Why do you even have one of those?!” Yuri demanded, his face coloring.

“I'd be willing to take one for the team,” Chris continued, ignoring Yuri's indignation, “I certainly don't mind being the first to disrobe.”

“No thanks. I saw enough of you perverts at last year's party. And there's no way I need to get dragged into another dance-off with the Pig.”

Otabek continued to watch Nikiforov and Katsuki tear up the dance floor. They pair were engaged in a sort of foxtrot. Nikiforov had good form, but it was obvious that Katsuki had never been trained in any form of pairs dance. He heard Yuri mention a dance-off to Chris, and it gave him an idea.

“We can do better than them,” he stated confidently.

Chris and Yuri broke of their conversation abruptly.

“Huh?” said Yuri while Chris gave an interested hum.

Otabek didn't see the point of repeating himself. It was better to show Yuri what he meant. Tugging him by the hand, Otabek directed their course to the dance floor.

“Oh look! It's Altin-kun and Yurio!” Viktor cried happily in Japanese as Yuri dipped him to the floor.

“Dance-off, Nikiforov!” Otabek called loudly, drawing ripples of excitement through the crowd of onlookers, “You and yours versus me and mine!”

Lifting the hand he still held captive, he spun Yuri around, then wrapped his other hand possessively around Yuri's waist.

“B-Beka! What do you think you're doing?” Yuri whispered frantically, his voice nearly a squeak. But where Yuri was embarrassed, Otabek was calm. His awkwardness had melted away. When it came to music and dance, he was in control.

“C'mon, Yura,” he crooned softly, “You don't want to lose to Katsuki again, do you?”

He struck a competitive nerve within Yuri, and a flame sparked in the Russian's eyes.

“Let's kick their asses!”

Otabek decided on a tango. It was appropriate for the music, and he was confident he could display some of Yuri's flexibility through the dance. Yuri was an excellent partner. He trusted in Otabek's direction entirely, and the slightest signal prompted him to twist, twirl, and spin exactly as intended.

Seeing the wicked display that the younger pair was putting on, Viktor tore off his tie with a cry of “IT'S ON! Yuuri, let's show them!”

But Katsuki was staring at the provocative gyrations of Yuri's hips as he moved around Otabek, looking completely scandalized.

“I can't move like that!” he protested.

“Yuuri, I love you, but that's bullshit! And everyone here knows it!” Viktor declared, pulling Katsuki to his side and taking the lead in something resembling a samba. Other dancers made way as the dueling pairs dominated the space. Katsuki appeared reluctant at first, but with some more prompting and a few well-aimed taunts from Yuri, he was soon as engaged in the competition as the others, taking the lead from Viktor.

“Do you think we can manage a lift?” Otabek asked while drawing Yuri closer to him.

Yuri's face was flushed, though whether from pleasure or exertion it was difficult to tell.

“Wait, me lifting you or vice versa?” he asked.

Otabek grinned, “You're more flexible. Just go with it!”

With a bit of prompting, Yuri kicked one of his legs in the air. Otabek grasped the appendage offered, and lifted him off the ground. He raised Yuri over one of his shoulders, spinning across the floor while Yuri exhibited his flexibility. Using the momentum, Otabek allowed Yuri to dismount by twirling him around his back and settling him safely on the floor again. He felt a surge of pride to see Yuri land so gracefully, kicking his leg behind his head in a final flourish as they finished the daring move.

Their little knot of onlookers erupted into cheers, while an exhausted Nikiforov shouted, “I give! I give! You guys win!”

“Victory!” Yuri crowed, jumping into the air with one last twirl.

Otabek found himself smiling foolishly as he watched Yuri take a few bows. It seemed as if Yuri was enjoying the dance triumph more than his gold medal.

But Yuri's good spirits were quickly shattered by the reappearance of JJ, who was made his way toward the happy pair, a glass of champagne in each hand.

“Well done, you two!” he cheered, offering one of the glasses to Otabek. “That was an impressive performance. Yuri is full of surprises! Who would have thought the little ki...”

Otabek, suspecting the word “kitten” was about to escape JJ's mouth, directed a warning glare in his direction. JJ caught the threat behind the expression, and quickly corrected himself.

“Ki... King! That's right! People are going to start calling you the king now! I'll have to watch myself if I'm going to keep my title!”

“What title?” Yuri jeered, “You didn't even place on the podium this year!”

JJ winced, clearly feeling the sting from that barb, but he covered it with a smile, stating, “Perhaps if my fiance was on the ice with me, I'd skate as well as you and the power couple over there.”

He motioned toward Viktor and Yuuri with his champagne glass, which seemed to recall the drinks to his mind. He eyed Otabek's glass, and noted with a touch of disappointment that Otabek hadn't yet tasted his refreshment.

“Beka!” He shouted melodramatically, “You aren't going to drink? I brought it specially for you to celebrate your conquest! Sorry, none for Yuri!”

Yuri's face had already turned a deep crimson. Otabek suspected it was outrage at hearing his nickname issue from the mouth of a hated rival. Yuri snatched the drink from Otabek's hand, declaring as he did so, “Why? You think I can't handle it?”

JJ and Otabek watched in shock as Yuri downed the entire glass in one terrific gulp.

“Um... no?” said JJ when Yuri lowered the glass, “I was going to say that you're too young to drink...”

Otabek shifted his weight from foot to foot. The constant reminders that Yuri was barely sixteen were really unnerving. Yuri, sensing his discomfort, quickly snatched the glass still held by JJ. Its contents quickly followed that of the first.

“Whatever. I'm not some kid. I can handle it.”

“Yuri... I don't think this is a good idea...” cautioned Otabek.

But JJ was raring for another contest. He'd missed the chance to be involved in the dance off, but he seemed to think he'd have the advantage in a drinking contest.

And so it came to pass that Otabek and Yuuri Katsuki spent most of the banquet babysitting their two drunk Russians.

“Who gave yours alcohol?” Katsuki asked. From his seat at the table he had a good view of Viktor, who was busy gamboling about the dance floor with a highly amused Phichit.

Otabek was seated by his side, but he had his eyes trained on Yuri, who was having a very loud, very public argument with his coach – probably about the drinking.

“JJ,” he said in response to Katsuki's question, “What about yours?”

“Chris,” Katsuki said with a sigh, “Someday there will be a banquet that both Viktor and I remember.”

“At least no one got naked this year,” Otabek commented, merely to see the look of embarrassment on Katsuki's face.

He was surprised to see Katsuki smile instead of blush.

“I wouldn't be too sure of that,” said Katsuki. He pointed across the room. In the second Otabek's vigilance had wavered, Yuri fled from Yakov to challenge Viktor to round two. To Otabek's horror, Yuri was stripping off his jacket to reveal the scanty, flesh-exposing tank top underneath.

“OK!” Otabek said, slamming his hands down on the table as he jumped to his feet. “Time for you to go to bed!”

He charged into the crowd surrounding the drunk duo, lifted Yuri off his feet for the second time that evening, and proceeded to cart him away from the dance floor. Yuri squirmed in his arms, shouting that he needed to defend his title as Dance King.

“Did you need to take your jacket off for that?” Otabek asked, sitting Yuri back onto his feet but keeping his hands firmly on the boy's shoulders.

Yuri tossed his head impetuously, and the few strands of hair that had managed to escape from his elastic band fluttered around his face. He blew them away impatiently, and Otabek caught the unmistakable scent of alcohol on his breath.

“I'm hot,” he said stubbornly.

“Bed.” Otabek repeated, just as stubborn.

Yuri's expression changed subtly; he now looked at Otabek with surprise.

“Oh, are we doing that already? Alright...”

Yuri took a step toward the door and swayed on his feet. Fearing that he'd fall and hurt himself, Otabek quickly wrapped his arms around Yuri's waist and supported his weight.

“Jeez, Beka,” Yuri sighed, melting against Otabek's side, “Can't you wait till we get to my room, at least?”

Before Otabek could process the mistake Yuri had fallen into, the other Yuuri was jogging up to them, clutching Yuri's jacket in his hand.

“Hey! Don't forget this. Are you taking him to bed? That's good. I'd probably better collect Viktor before he makes an even bigger fool of himself.”

“Yes, we're going to bed!” Yuri declared loudly, “Don't worry, Piggy, I'll make _good_ use of your birthday present!”

Katsuki let out a very audible gasp.

“What present?” asked Otabek, all innocence.

Yuri did nothing but laugh. Katsuki wouldn't meet Otabek's eye, but he glared at Yuri disapprovingly.

“Yurio, you're drunk. You can't be serious.”

“I'm not drunk,” Yuri argued, “Your fiance is.”

Katsuki turned his face instinctively in the direction of Viktor, who had commenced stripping off his suit while an enthusiastic Chris showered him with paper bills.

“Viktor, NO!” shouted Katsuki, immediately abandoning Otabek.

“What present?” he asked again, this time directing the inquiry at Yuri.

“Hm? Oh... I'll show you when we get to the room!” Yuri said mischievously.

But whatever plans Yuri had for their arrival were forgotten as soon as they crossed the threshold. Yuri, who had been leaning his weight against Otabek all the way up to his floor, abruptly shoved him away and darted toward the bathroom. Otabek could hear the sounds of retching as Yuri bent his face over the toilet.

Otabek sighed, laid Yuri's jacket across the back of a chair, and followed him into the bathroom. He sat on the floor by Yuri's side and gently pulled his loose hair away from his face. Yuri groaned, the sound amplified by the bowl. Otabek rubbed his back in slow circles, offering what comfort he could.

Yuri, sighing heavily, leaned back into Otabek's touch. Wiping his mouth carelessly on his wrist, the turned to offer Otabek a weak smile.

“I bet this isn't how you imagined our first date,” he said.

Otabek returned his smile, but he said nothing. The truth was, he didn't mind nursing the alcohol-sick Yuri. He was simply happy to have this time together, and to hear Yuri refer to their evening as a date. He was overwhelmed with the realization that this hot-tempered, adorable, drunk blond resting his cheek against the toilet seat was his boyfriend.

Yuri seemed to have gotten the worst of it out of his system, and started to doze off. Otabek scooped him into his arms and carried him carefully to the bed. He placed a trashcan nearby, just in case, pulled off Yuri's shoes, and prepared to tuck him in.

Yuri caught his wrist before he could turn away. He looked up at Otabek, his eyes still dark with the eyeshadow he'd worn for his performance, though now it was smeared from a night of hard partying. Otabek stared into those bleary, puffy eyes and smiled at him curiously, encouraging Yuri to speak without himself saying a word.

“Stay with me?” Yuri asked, his voice quiet, almost a whimper.

It was a tempting offer. He could almost picture curling up next to Yuri's side, wrapping him in a protective embrace, as if cuddling could ward off hangovers. But he shook his head.

“You need rest. I'll be back in the morning with a glass of water and some medicine.”

Yuri wrinkled his nose in consternation, “For what?”

“Trust me, you'll need it.”

“Just stay with me until I fall asleep?”

Otabek agreed and sat down on the edge of the bed, removing his wrist from Yuri's grasp so that he could hold his hand instead. Yuri was trying to fight his own exhaustion, but sleep overcame him almost as soon as he closed his eyes. Barely five minutes passed before Otabek saw him breathing deeply, his eyelids fluttering as he dreamed.

Otabek pushed Yuri's hair out of his face, then leaned over his sleeping form. Softly, he pressed his lips against Yuri's forehead in a chaste kiss. Very quietly, so as not to disturb the slumbering tiger, he whispered, “Love you...”

Then he slipped out of the room, wondering if there were any convenience stores open this late at night were he could find a hangover cure. His boyfriend was going to have the world's worst headache in the morning.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Congratulations on making it to the end of this goofy love story. Yes, the plot ends here! I promised a banquet chapter and I delivered. However! That does not mean this will be the last update. I feel as if I promised you all some more smut somewhere along the way, and I plan to keep my word. 
> 
> But I need all of your help! As a special thanks to all the readers who've commented and supported me with this, my first smutty fanfic, I'd like to know what kink you'd like to see featured in the next chapter! Feel free to leave me a comment with your vote (I moderate them, so your vote will be kept secret - no kink-shaming here) and I'll tailor my writing to the kink with the most comments! Or, you know, whichever one I like the best! ;)
> 
> Thanks again, everybody! Happy Reading!


	19. Reprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is "Reprise" because I've reverted back to Yuri's POV. Why you ask? It just seemed to make sense for the scenario I had in mind. Thanks again to everyone who has read and left feedback throughout the course of the story. I probably never would have followed through with this without all of your support! As for the poll to determine which kink I would use for this chapter, I ended up choosing my favorite from the responses I received. Thank you, anonymous commenters, for the inspiration!
> 
> Fondest wishes to you all in your future fanfiction adventures!

Yuri was frustrated. Sexually frustrated.

The issue was not that Otabek hadn't been a willing partner. On the contrary, he'd had always been patiently available whenever Yuri was in the mood. _That_ was the problem. Yuri was always the one instigating sex. Just once, he wanted Otabek to push him down, crush him under his weight, and ravish him.

He knew it was stupid to think this way, but he couldn't escape the nagging suspicion that Otabek never took the lead during their intimate moments because he simply wasn't as attracted to Yuri as Yuri was to him.

Of course, he knew that Otabek _liked_ him. He wouldn't have done all the things Yuri had asked of him if he didn't at least like him. But it wasn't enough to be admired and indulged. He wanted passion. He wanted Otabek to _want_ him.

Which is why he was currently slicing his way across the ice, performing a variation of his exposition routine specifically designed to seduce his boyfriend. The season being over, he'd invited Otabek to train with him in St. Petersburg, stating it would be an opportunity to demonstrate the changes he wanted to make to the routine.

“You're going to have a small part in it,” Yuri had explained when they spoke over the phone, “So your participation in practice is required.”

“Well...” Otabek had replied, his husky voice sending shivers up Yuri's spine, “If it's required...”

Several days had already passed since Otabek's visit began, but this was the first practice in which Yuri would be unveiling the new and improved routine.

A talented skater is influential. A well executed routine could manipulate the emotions of an entire arena. Yuri had witnessed firsthand how hot and bothered Viktor became whenever he saw the other Yuuri skating. And so, channeling his own Eros, Yuri purposely changed his movements to be more provocative, hoping somehow Otabek would feel his desire and respond accordingly.

“You just have to watch for now, we'll rehearse your part later,” were Yuri's words just before the start of the routine.

Otabek was nothing if not unfailingly obedient (at least when it came to Yuri) and he loitered casually at the edge of the rink, leaning his elbows against the half-wall. As Yuri cut his way across the ice, he tried to read the effect of the routine on Otabek, but it was impossible to discern anything underneath the Kazakh's stoic expression. Even Yuri, who had become accustomed to reading Otabek's subtle cues, still had difficulty at times.

He brought his routine to a dramatic close, sliding across the ice and falling onto his back, spent from the energy it took to perform the program. Up until this point, he'd been focusing all of his attention on Otabek. He was unpleasantly reminded of their audience by the outburst of applause from Viktor and Yuuri Katsuki. As he climbed slowly to his feet, he gave them his customary glare.

They were annoying as usual, but Yuri's fowl mood could not be attributed to their unwanted praise. Otabek remained unmoved, even after Yuri's sublime performance. Angry with Otabek for being as cold as the ice beneath him and frustrated that his efforts had failed, Yuri had resigned himself to joining the enthusiastic couple, if only for a distraction.

He was intercepted by Otabek, who held the jacket Yuri discarded during the course of the performance.

“Thanks,” Yuri muttered as he grabbed the garment. He didn't bother to meet Otabek's eye, or even ask him what he thought about the changes to the routine. In fact, he was going to skate away immediately. But when he tried to take the jacket, he was stopped by Otabek's firm grip on his wrist.

Otabek tugged him closer. Yuri could feel his warm breath on his ear as he whispered, “Put it back on. I'll tear it off of you myself when we get home.”

Then he skated away, his expression as inscrutable as ever. Yuri was left thunderstruck in the middle of the rink, wondering if the words he heard had simply been the product of his overly sexual imagination. It was easy to believe he had hallucinated the whole thing, seeing how Otabek calmly exited the rink and joined Viktor and Katsuki in friendly conversation.

Otabek's words were still ringing his his ears by the time practice ended. Yakov offered to drive them both to Lilia's home, where Yuri continued to reside in preparation for next season. Yuri sat in the front, squirming with discomfort. He was painfully aware of Otabek, lounging quietly in the backseat. He tried to focus on what Yakov was saying to him.

“Lilia is out with a few of her old friends from the ballet. I don't expect she'll be back till late, and I have a few errands to run myself. Will you be alright making dinner?”

“What...?” Yuri asked nervously, needing a few seconds to process what Yakov just told him. “Oh... Y-Yes. That will be fine...”

“Are you feeling alright?” Yakov asked, his eyes flicking away from the road to observe Yuri's flushed face, “You're not feeling sick are you?”

“... I'm just tired from practice...” Yuri muttered, trying ignore the quiet chuckle from the backseat.

Yakov dropped them off at Lilia's house, then sped away on his errand. Yuri walked nervously to the front door, while Otabek continued to stalk behind. Yuri's hands were shaking. He could barely get the key in the lock. He flinched as Otabek suddenly reached an arm around him to open the door.

“T-Thanks...” Yuri said, hurrying inside without turning his face toward Otabek.

He couldn't account for his own nervousness. It certainly wasn't the first time they'd been alone together. But the atmosphere was different now. Otabek was as calm and serene as usual, but Yuri remembered what he'd said, and he wasn't sure what to expect.

“Are you sure you're feeling alright?” Otabek asked, his tone one of genuine concern.

Yuri took a deep breath and finally raised his eyes to peer at his boyfriend. Otabek's brows were pulled together in a gentle frown, but otherwise, he appeared as normal.

Yuri cleared his throat to ensure his voice wouldn't break before replaying, “Yes. I feel fine.”

Otabek smiled at him.

“Good,” he stated briefly. Then he scooped Yuri off his feet and proceeded to carry him up the stairs.

“W-Wait!” Yuri protested, “We... We shouldn't do this here! Yakov will be back soon!”

“He'll be out for a few hours, at least. I plan to make the most of that time.”

Yuri's mouth fell open, but no words came out. He knew this is what he had wanted. He'd fantasized about a situation like this so many times. But now that the moment had finally come, he wasn't sure what he should do.

Otabek shouldered open the bedroom door and tossed Yuri roughly onto the bed. True to his word, he began removing Yuri's clothes himself, starting with the jacket. The bright material was ripped hastily from his shoulders, revealing Yuri's bare arms and neck. The Russian gasped as Otabek's rough hands slipped under the thin fabric of his tank top, chafing his nipples. Otabek slowly pulled the shirt up, seeming to relish the sight of Yuri's exposed flesh. Yuri was nearly free when Otabek suddenly paused. With a smile, he proceeded to knot the shirt around Yuri's wrists, securing Yuri's arms above his head.

“Wait... What are you doing?” Yuri asked, though he already had a suspicion.

“I'm in charge this time,” said Otabek. His quiet words set Yuri's heart racing.

Yuri's pants were the next article of clothing to be removed. Yuri, with his hands bound, was powerless to do anything but buck his hips as Otabek pulled down his underwear and began to suck him off.

It was the first time Otabek had taken initiative with giving head. Usually, it was Yuri who granted this particular favor. Otabek wasn't rough with him, but he seemed lost with his hands as he took Yuri into his mouth without hesitation. A slick, moist sensation enveloped Yuri's head as Otabek slid his lips down his shaft. It was hot and wet and felt amazing, but more than the sensation, it was the knowledge that Otabek was making him feel this way that set him off.

“Beka... Wait! You don't have to...” Yuri started to say, though he didn't really want Otabek to stop.

Thankfully, Otabek ignored him and continued to suck, the sides of his cheeks caressing Yuri's glans and shaft, one hand holding the base of Yuri's dick. Yuri moaned with pleasure as he felt his tip rub against the surface of Otabek's palate. Otabek wasn't shy as he continued to wrap his tongue around Yuri's cock, occasionally flicking it over the head. His method was bold and precise, not unlike his skating.

Yuri started to breathe harder, finding it difficult to keep his voice in check. He was dying to run his hands through Otabek's hair, to force his dick further down Otabek's throat, but the bindings around his wrists prevented him.

Responding to Yuri's reactions, Otabek began to suck harder, his cheeks pressing more firmly around Yuri's shaft as his free hand massaged Yuri's balls. Yuri began to whimper as he drew closer to climax, his hips bucking into Otabek of their own accord.

Then Otabek abruptly pulled away. Yuri, slightly dizzy, looked up at him with bleary-eyed confusion. He felt his puzzlement melt away as Otabek unzipped his pants to pull out his own erect cock. He didn't bother to disrobe.

“My hands...” Yuri said, understanding what what coming next, “Untie me, Beka...”

Otabek smiled down at him, “You're not giving the orders today.”

“But... I want to touch you!”

“Haven't you done enough of that already? I thought this is what you wanted.”

Yuri realized that Otabek understood the message he'd been trying to send, and was pleased that Otabek understood him so well. He opened his body to him, desperate for Otabek to enter.

Ever obliging, Otabek slid into him. Yuri, by now very accustomed to the shape of him, still let out a gasp as Otabek's full length penetrated him to the hilt. It was a little uncomfortable, especially without lube, and Yuri stiffened in response.

Otabek grunted as Yuri 's muscles clenched around his dick. He stroked Yuri's thighs as if to sooth him. His hands ran up Yuri's sides and over his chest, caressing his body. Yuri felt a fire in the pit of his stomach, watching the possessive expression on Otabek's face as he gazed at Yuri's body beneath him. That fire spread as Otabek reached between Yuri's legs, preparing to stroke his dick.

Yuri pleaded with him to stop. He was already close to climax, but he wasn't ready to cum just yet. Otabek complied, releasing Yuri's dick to focus his movements on grinding slowly against him. He was trying to be patient, and hadn't begun to thrust, but Yuri could tell he was turned on by his heavy breaths and the way he stared unblinking in to Yuri's eyes, as if he wanted to kiss him.

Knowing that Otabek was feeling so aroused made Yuri's own desire skyrocket.

“Beka... More... Move more...!” Yuri begged between light gasps.

Otabek ignored his pleas and continued to fondle his chest while his hips made tantalizingly slow movements. Yuri wanted to push him further, but felt restricted by his bound hands. His dick began to twitch and tremble. He felt like he could come from Otabek's teasing alone, but he wanted more than that.

He swung both hands down onto Otabek's head, shouting angrily, “Damnit, Beka! _Fuck me_!”

Otabek, laughing heartily at Yuri's frustration, replied, “I thought you'd never ask.”

He thrust into him, drawing a cry from Yuri of both arousal and triumph. His cries became moans as Otabek continued to thrust aggressively. Otabek's hands returned to his thighs, holding onto Yuri for support. Each movement became smoother as Otabek began to fill Yuri with precum. An indecent, moist sound started to emanate from where they were connected.

“ _Ah...! Harder...!_ ” Yuri practically screamed, his bound hands reaching above his head to grab the headboard.

His eyes were clenched shut, but a word from Otabek caused him to open them again. His gaze locked onto Otabek. They maintained that connection as Otabek continued to thrust into him according to Yuri's insistence, harder and faster. Otabek was panting heavily as he stared at Yuri with undisguised desire. Yuri wanted to kiss him, but he didn't say another word. He didn't even know if he could manage words in his current state.

Otabek was moving without reservation now. Yuri moved his hips to match Otabek's movements as he pulled out and thrust deep inside over and over again. Yuri, abandoning all pretense of suppressing his cries, seemed to incense Otabek further. He reached for Yuri's dick a second time, resuming the hand-job, timing the movements of his wrist with his powerful thrusts.

“I'm going to cum inside you,” Otabek warned.

The effect on Yuri was nearly instantaneous. He arched his back as the semen shot from his cock, landing across his stomach and chest. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, riding the waves of pleasure that continued to rocket through him as Otabek continued to penetrate him.

He could feel Otabek's climax an instant later, hot and wet as he thrust deep inside.

Still connected, Otabek leaned over Yuri's sweat and cum soaked body to kiss him passionately on the lips. While their tongues were entwined, he finally released the bonds around Yuri's wrists.

Yuri, his hands free, used them to grab Otabek's face and pull him closer to demand more kisses. They indulged in a silent, post-coitus make-out session before Otabek rolled off of Yuri and snuggled up next to his side.

“Beka... That was... That...” Yuri stammered, trying to find the words to accurately describe the fantastic sex he'd just received.

Beka grinned at him sleepily, his energy spent from dominating Yuri.

“I should come to your practices more often.”

Yuri grinned and rewarded him for a job well done with one more light kiss.

“You think that was good?” he teased, “Wait till you see what I have planned for next season.”

 


End file.
